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Museum of Comparative Zoology 











Come ! 
Let us seek the bank, where fiow'ring Elders crowd ; 
Where, scatter'd wild the Lily of the Vale 
Its balmy essence breathes ; where Cowslips hang 
The dewy head ; where purple violets lurk, 
With all the lowly children of the shade. 
So shall our well-stored page the fancy lead 
Through every rural scene. 





Agent for Dublin, John Wiseheart; Edinburgh, J. Menzies; 
Glasgow, John M'Leod, 66, Argyle Street. 

m. DCCC. LII. 





The time has now come for us to present our good friends,, the 
Public, with our collected Thoughts of the last Six Months. If they expe- 
rience only one-half the pleasure in reading, that we have felt whilst 
writing, — our object will have been fully attained. So much, as regards 

We need add nothing further, — excepting indeed a hearty acknow- 
ledgment of the kind offices rendered us by our literary friends and allies 
in the paths of Science. We owe them a heavy debt of gratitude for 
favors received, and for their having cheered us on by the way. Many 
have been our besetting difficulties ; but by their aid, we have survived 
them all. 

Let us solicit a continuance of the same friendly offices ; then shall 
we again appear in December-c-and with a still more interesting Volume, 
perhaps, than the present. 


New Road, Hammersmith, 
July 1st, 1852. 


Address of the Editor to his Friends and the 

Public, 1, 8, 
Affectation of Sensibility, 135 
Ailsa Crag, Natural History of, 395 
Albatross, The, 368 
Alligator Hunt, 22 

Anatomy and Mechanism of Birds, 170 
Animalcules, 265 

Animals and their Young, 181, 226 
Animals, their Muscular Power, 379 
Art and its Origin, 366 
Artificial Incubation of Poultry, 247, 380 
Aviary, Occupants of, destroyed by Rats, 1 1 
Avidavats in Aviaries, 235, 313 
Barclay and Perkins; an Historical Parallel, 47 
Battue of Pigeons in America, 80 
Bees . — The Queen, 37 ; the Drone, ibid ; the 
Working Bee, ibid; Swarming of, 70 

Battle of the, 329 

Birds of Song, Re-printed with Additions from 
the Gardeners' Chronicle, 161, 179, 195, 209, 
228, 243, 260, 284, 291, 307, 331, 338, 356, 
381, 390, 413 

Birds, Are they not sensible ? 345 

Egg-bound, Cure for, 298 

in a Second Moult, 234 

Ravages of, 413 

What they do, and do not, 412 

How many Eggs do they lay previous to 

Sitting? 347 

Bird Cages, 74, 91, 219, 249, 265 

Blackbeetles, 329, 379 

Black Snakes of Jamaica, 19 

Blackbird, The, 20, 170, 217 

A Bald, 58 

A White, 186 

Cats, Distemper in, 380 

known as " Tier-rangers," 202 

without Tails, 249, 330, 331, 379 

Whiskers, Use of their, 320 

Blackcap, 105, 314 

Blue Titmouse, Apology for the, 342 

Boa Constrictor, its " Digestive" Powers, 111 

Botanical Explanations, 256 

Brandy, Origin of, 352 , 

British Warblers, 229, 250, 266, 285, 316, 326 

Bullfinch Killed by Improper Food, 186 

Bullfinches, 43, 153, 170 

Paired with Canaries, 155 

Butterfly, Chrysalis of, 80 
Butterflies, Migratory, 155, 186 
Remarkable Flight of Brown Migra- 
tory, 58, 122 
Can I ? — or can I not? 416 
Canaries Living and Breeding in the Open Air, 
289, 321 

Canary, The, 57, 58, 74, 105, 137, 139, 153, 154, 
186, 195, 209, 228, 243, 244, 245, 250, 260, 
261, 282, 284, 291, 307, 331. 338, 356 

Lines on the Death of a, 363 

with Bad Habits, 235, 346 ; the Surfeit, 


Folly of early Breeding from, 235, 296 

On " Pairing," 235 

■ Sagacity of, 250 

Cat and Rabbit, Anecdote of a, 202 

Cat, A, touched by Remorse, 315 

Cats, 31, 40, 73, 107, 138, 204, 249, 250, 378, 409 

Chimney Swallow, a Cage Bird, 283, 393 

Cleanliness next to Godliness, 336 

Cockroaches, 329, 379 

Conscientious Fowl, A, 346 

Cookery, a Positive Science, 79 

Coral Zoophytes, 192 

Crocus, The, 119 

Cow-house, with a Glass Roof, 330 

Crab, Notes on the, 263 

Crow, A perfectly White, 320 

Cruelty to Birds, 192 

Crystal Palace, The, its Prostitution, 327 

Crystallisation, 304 

Cuckoo, 9, 52 

Curiosity of Children, 64 

Daguerreotype, Improvements in, 365 

Death's-Head Moth, The, 349 

Death Watch, The, 359 

Decision of Character, 379 

Diamond, History of the, 343 

Difficulty and Impossibility, 66 

Dog and Kitten, 25 

Dog (Terrier), Troubled with Worms, 139 

Dog-Rat (a Nondescript), 4 

Dogs, Anecdotes of, 23, 24 

Turnspit, 23 

■ Newfoundland, 265 

Terrier, 265 

Distemper in, 201, 248, 283, 380 

Domestic Pets, The Squirrel, No. 1, 113 

Dormouse, The, 234, 347 

Drowning, Physiology of, 279 

Duck Eggs Hatched by Fowls, 57, 153, 393 
Turkeys, 153 

Early Appearance of the Swallow and Night- 
ingale in 1852, 281 
Eggs, Artificial Incubation of, 90, 91, 170 

On the Fecundation of, 123, 139 J 

Remarkable, 249, 347 

Eels, Propagation of, 59, 73, 89, 106, 121, 202 

Singular Habits of, 218 

Electric Fluid,The— Is it attracted by Color ? 222 
Electro-Biology (Carpenter's Lecture), 199, 252 
Elephants, Art of Catching in Ceylon, 53 
Entomological Inquiry, 325 


Bathing, 336; Botanical Ramble in the Neigh- 
borhood of Abbotsford, 149; Catalogues of the 
Great Exhibition, or Curiosities of Literature, 
302; A Chapter on Aunts, 123; Close of 
Autumn, 45; Clouds and Sunshine, 100; A 
Cold, 172; " Comfortable," 109; Country 
Rambles— Hanger Hill, &c, 273; May-day 
Ramble near Totnes, 337; London to Dul- 
wich and Norwood, 385; Delights of Fresh 
Air, 299; Difficulty and Impossibility, 65; 
Domestic Cogitations, " Buttered Toast," 132; 
Ease and Elegance Contrasted, 165; An 
Editor's Letter-box, 42, 216, 360; Educa- 


tion of Children,. 253, 395; Farmer's Wives in 
1550, 415; Flowers and their Associations, 
236 ; Flowers and their Amiabilities, 252 ; 
A Frost in London, 117; On Genius, 14; 
Getting up on cold Mornings, 76 ; The Haw- 
thorn, 70; "He is so Amiable!" 71; "How 
easy he Writes !" 10; Leap-year, 92; London 
Bird-catchers, 39 ; Love of Offspring in Ani- 
mals, 2 68 ; Manners and Independence, 143 ; 
Nature and Art, or Modern Follies in Ladies' 
Dress, 133; Naturalisation of Foreign Birds, 
258; " No!" 286 ; Picture of an English Vil- 
lage, 68 ; Poetry of Love, 74 ; Progress of the 
Seasons, 145, 225, 232, 248, 264, 280, 296, 
312, 328, 329, 360, 392, 401; Poor Relations, 
207 ; Rambles in Devonshire, and early Spring 
Flowers, 155; Reason in Animals, 49; Re- 
miniscences of a Visit to Brignall and Rokeby, 
353, 369; Safety Coach, as driven by the 
" Editor," 88 ; Salt, the Curse of Old England, 
251 ; Signs of the Times, 358 ; On " Snow," 
55; St. Valentine's Day, 98, 192; Sunset from 
Mont Blanc, 143 ; Symptoms of Winter, 60, 
69; Thoughts on the New Year, &c, 17; 
Temperance and Drunkenness, 280; Town 
and Country Life, 17; Twelfth Day, 13; Two 
Styles of Living, 77; " We'll see about it," 
175 ; " Who is the Editor? his Invisibility and 
Un-come-at-a-bility, — a Tale of Mystery, 104 

" Evil World," a Misnomer, 57, 66 

Evil of Hanging Birds in the Sun, 218 

Facts v. Fiction in Natural History, 16 

Fairy Rings, 262 

Fatigue of Standing up in Church, peculiar to 
the Fair Sex, 144 

Fauvette, The, 357 

Female Costume, the " Bloomers," 29 

Fig-tree, The, 359 

" Five Sundays in February," 215 

Flowers and the Fair Sex, 240 

Flower Gardens on a small Scale, 346 

Frog, The Domestic, 233 


Choice of Company, 15; Excellence, the Result 
of Labor, 2 ; Female Loveliness, 1 6 ; Folly of 
Anger, 15 ; How to break off a bad Habit, 16 : 
Judgments and Perverse Judgments, 15; 
Sea, The, a great Cemetery, ibid; Sorrows of 
Authors, ibid. 

Fleas, How to Destroy, 190 

Fox, Anecdote of a, 107 

Friendship of the World, 135 

Garden, The:— Succulent Plants, 67, 170, 236; 
Annuals, Biennials, and Perennials, 68, 72, 
329; Strawberry Forcing, 110 

Gathering of the Vine, 393 

Geese, Curious Habits of, 25 

Geological Inquiry, 218 

German Paste, 218, 249, 313 

Goldfinch, The, 138, 364 

■ — Paired with a Bullfinch, 235 

Mules, 347 

Gold Fish, 91, 267, 314 

Governesses, A kind Word for, 327 

Great Exhibition of 1851, 256, 302, 327 

Greenfinch, The, 123, 235 

Green Food for Birds, 283 

Groundsel, Is it good for Birds in Winter? 73 

Grub in a Coffin, 331 

Guinea Pig, 139 

Gull, A Rapacious, 234 

Hard Names in Natural History Deprecated, 27 

Hedgehog, 345 

Hedge-sparrow, The, 26 

Hints to all who keep Song Birds and Domestic 

Pets, 10 
Hints on " doing Good," 394 
Hoopoe, Specimen of the, 335 
Horse, Anecdote of the, 55 
Humanity to Animals, 278, 314, 328, 329 
Hysena Hunt, 127 
Igneous Origin of Rocks, 282 
Innocence, Simplicity of, 208 
Insects, 153,203, 218, 220, 234, 249, 281, 410 
Inscription for an Arbour, 256 
Instinct and Reason, 43, 49, 154 
Irish Bipeds, Feathered and Unfeathered, 185 
Jackdaw, A Sagacious, 136 
Jealousy, 98, 112 
" Kidd's Journal" and its Opponents, 103, 119, 

120, 134, 136, 152, 168, 184, 312, 344, 376, 408 
Kitten, Singular Anecdote of a, 25, 
Lamb and Spaniel, Anecdote of a, 345 
Landscape, Influence of a Fog on a, 16 
Landscape Scenery, ibid 
Leech, The, 363 
Liverpool in Disgrace, 88 
Locusts, 160, 330 
London Bird Catchers, 39 
Manchester in Disgrace, 136 
Mastodon, The, 215 
Meal-worms, 251 
Minds, The, of Animals, 116 


Age, 6 ; Advantages of Living, 222 ; Chancery, 
375; Comparison, 78 , Contention, 304; De- 
lights of a well-stored Mind, 351 ; Epistolary 
Proofs of Ardent Affection, 192; Education, 56; 
Exercise, 270; Experience the Test of Truth, 
287 , Fancy, 24 ; Good Temper, 407 ; Grapes 
spoilt by Mildew, 411; Gutta Percha String, 
412; Hops, 411; Hope, 259; Importation of 
Eggs, 279; Importation of 3000 Quails, 319; 
Indolence, 67; Insanity, 271; Insignificance, 
335; Land of Pearls, 416; Law and Equity 
for once Identical, 368; Letters, 272 ; Light 
of Nature, 208; Lizards in the Human Sto- 
mach, 203 : Things Lost for Ever, 48 ; Love, 
416; Luminous Appearance presented by Dead 
Wood, 201; Man, 47; Nice Distinctions and 
Small Differences, 319; No place like Home, 
271; Prejudice, 176; Pressure of the Sea, 
279; Progress of Knowledge, 271; Reading 
and Thinking, 343 ; Scandal, 295; Scylla and 
Charybdis, 407 ; Spring Physic, 315; Straw- 
berries grafted on a Rose, 271; Talent and 
Genius, 64 ; Thought in Dreaming, 27 1 , 
A Time for Everything, 379 ; Time, 151 ; 
True Philosophy, 165; Truth and Falsehood, 
127; Vegetarians, The, 272; Vice, 352; 
Waste of Life, 295; Word against Encores, 
416 ; Wisdom, 24 

Model for a Periodical, 24 

Modern Science— the Magnetoscope, 7, 211 

Marriages, 402 

Modern Miracles and Impostures — Electro-Bio- 
logy, 156 

Mole, The, 2, 51 

Moon's, The, Influence on the Atmosphere, 151 

Moonlight in the Tropics, 19 
Mosquitoes, &c., in the Brazils, 127 
Moth, Antler, 186 

Goat, 110, 186 

Moths and Butterflies — How to Attract, 297 

Natural History, On the Study of, 33 

Natural History of Song Birds, — Nestling and 

Incuhation, 241 ; Language of Birds, 305 
Naturalists, Notes for, 85, 177 
Nests of Birds, Notes on the, 393 
Nightingale, The, 20, 217, 314, 326, 381, 390, 413 

. hatched by Canaries, 365 

will they Breed in Cages? 283 

Cages, 203 

Food, 298 

- in Moscow, 217 

Eggs hatched by Robins, 138 

Nuthatch, The, 169 
Obituary — Mr. W. Thompson, the Naturalist, 
Belfast, 187 

Thomas Moore, the Poet, 206 

Orchis, The, and the Bee, 400 
Ostrich, The, 9, 25 

Immense Speed of the, 185 

Our " New Title," 352 


Affections, 240; Brother and Sister, 63; Busy 
World, 240; Colors in Ladies' Dress, 240; 
Distinctions, 288 ; Elegant Motto, 63 ; Emu- 
lation, 128; Father and Son, 163; Good 
Name, A, 78 ; Good Heart of Charles Lamb, 
128; Habit, 239; Howard's (Mrs.) Spending- 
Money, 128; Husbands and Wives, 303; 
Human Animal Economy, 78; Jokers, 128; 
Joyous Childhood, 303 ; Love's Sorrow, 63 ; 
Moisture Condensed by Cold, 78; Moral 
Beauty 78; Phrenological Development no 
Excuse for Crime, 63 ; Protection to Nightin- 
gales, 288; Rustic Baskets for Flower Beds, 
239; Superstition gendered by Trifles, 128; 
World beyond the Eye, 288 

Oysters, Beautiful and Ugly, 135 

Pairing of Birds, 146, 162 

Parrot Tribe, The, 153 

African, 43, 89 

— Amazon, 105 

Green, ibid 

Grey, 139 

Parroquets, Australian, 26, 89 

Partridges, 131 

Persecuted Animals, An Apology for, 194, 257, 

Photography, Improvements in, 187 

Phrenology for the Million, 118, 129, 147, 164, 
182, 197, 213, 230, 261, 293, 310, 341, 373, 

Pigeons, 42, 130, 219, 331 

■ Bred in a Room, 1 69 

Tumblers, 58 

Diseased, 105, 155 


Benevolence of Domestic Life, 32 ; Character, 
31; Deceit of Zeal, 31; Distinguished Men 
always Hard Workers, 12 ; Genius, 32 ; Ladies' 
Hands and Lips, 12; Moisture in Connection 
with Health, 31; Reflections for 1852, 12, 16; 
Sleep, Thoughts on, 32; Vitality of Good 
Men's Deeds, 31; Wit, 12 

Pike, A remarkable, 111 


Address to Nature, 270'; Ages pass'd away, 87 ; 
Albanian Love Letter, 66 ; Bachelor's Lay of 
the Olden Time, 128; Blackbird, 20; Day of 
Spring, 228 ; Dearest, The, 144 ; Delights of 
Spring, 358; Ending of the Drought, 320; 
Faith and Hope, 279 ; First Mild Day in 
March, 146 ; Flower of Youth, 38 ; Flowers 
and Maidens, 80; Forget not the Unhappy, 10 ; 
Gentle Boy, 67 ; Good Temper, 240 ; Human 
Life, 224; Keepsake, The, 13; Lines to Mary 
E. B., 336; Love's Good-Morrow, 191 ; Love 
Song, A, 192; Miniature, The, 271 ; Mother's 
Petition, The, 112; Moss Rose, Origin of 
the, 400; Nature and Art, 320; Nightingale, 
The, 20; Ode to Julia, 76; The One Great 
Pleasure of Life, 336; Our Own Fireside, 10 ; 
Poor Ronald, 56 ; Poverty, 304 ; Rosa May, 
232; Robin's, The, Appeal, 64; Robin, To 
the, 87 ; Scene in May, 343; Skylark, The, 20 ; 
Sleep, 1 68 ; Snow-drop, 49 ; Song for January, 
32; Song for February, 96; Song for March, 
192; Spring, 256; Spring is Coming, 272; 
Step-Mother, The, 29; Summer is Nigh, 252; 
Thoughts on a Poet, 56 ; Up and be Doing, 
64; Violet, The, 48; Winter, 80, 112 

Polypi, Tenacity of Life in, 63 


Booksellers' Question, The, 403; Cattle Grazing 
in Churchyards, 340; The Salmon, 292, 
309, 324, 389; on Trout Breeding, 355, 388 

Poultry, 44, 169, 247, 248, 283, 333, 347, 364, 
378, 380 

Houses, 346 

— — who eat their Eggs, Cure for, 347 


Burford's Panorama of Nimroud, 41 ; Marionette 
Theatre, 111 ; Robin's Soirees Parisiennes, 92, 
174; Hungarian Musical Company, 223, 253, 

Punctuation, &c, Uses of, 400 

" Rape of the Lock," 191 

Rats, Aviary destroyed by, 1 1 

How to get rid of, 9, 28, 44 

Instinct of, 4 

— — Want of Instinct in, ibid 

Contrivance of, to escape when caught, 250 

Water, 363 

Hanoverian, 363 


Rat and the Serpent, 4 

Raven, a Sagacious, 8 7 

Rearing young Birds, 297 

Reason as applied to Animals, 49 

Redpole, The, 154 

REVIEW of books. 

Anecdotes of Animals, by Mrs. Lee, 4; Bee- 
keepers' Manual, by Taylor, 36; Country 
House, The, 5, 52, 1 14 ; Critic, The, a Literary 
Journal, 6; Favorite Song Birds, by H. G. 
Adams, 20; Flowers, their Language, etc., by 
H. G. Adams, 66; Flora Tottoniensis, by S. 
Hannaford, jun., 83 ; History of British Birds, 
by Rev. F. O. Morris, 52, 243 ; History of 
the Nests and Eggs of Birds, by the Rev. F. 
O. Morris, 52, 243 ; History of British Butter- 
flies, by the Rev. F. O. Morris, 243; History 
of Birds, by Dr. Stanley, 130; Home Influence, 


by Grace Aguilar, 5; Junius, Character and 
Works of, compared, by Wm. Cramp, 23 ; 
Mother's Eecompense, by Grace Aguilar, 5; 
Naturalist, The, by Dr. Morris, 2, 51, 243; 
Naturalist's, The, Sojourn in Jamaica,by Gosse, 
19; Outlines of Physiology, by Agassiz and 
Gould, 3, 34; Reason and Instinct, by Gor- 
donius, 83 ; Scinde, etc., by Lieutenant Burton, 
2 1 ; Something New from the Flower Garden, 
22 ; Steam-engine, by H. Reid, 84 ; Study of 
Natural History, by F. Crisp, 114; Trout 
Fishing, Vade-mecum of, by G. Pulman, 162. 

Ring Ouzel, 187. 

Robin, The, 26, 72, 86, 185, 204, 345, 361, 363, 
371, 394, 409. 

Food and Proper Cages for, 393 

A Mesmerised, 234 

Rock Thrush, 266 

Rook, A remarkable Grey-headed, 250, 281, 297 

Royal Botanic Gardens, Regent's Park 157 

Salmon, Cause of its Scarcity, 201 

Scales of Fish viewed by the Microscope, 186 

Seasonable Comforts, a Good Fire, 126 

Sense, Inordinate Gratifications of, 176 

Shop-lifting an Innate Propensity, 165 

Showy Accomplishments, 199 

Silkworms, 234 

Siskin, The, 101 

Skylark, The, 28, 101, 178, 205, 206, 220, 221, 

222, 297, 315, 347 
Snakes in Australia, 303 

Soft- billed Birds, Food for, 26, 217, 393 

Soft Eggs, or Eggs without Shells, 298 

Song Birds, Natural History of, 81 

Song Birds in England and Ireland, 43, 204, 

Sparrows, 219 
Spider's Web, 281 
Spring in Scotland in 1852, 217 
Squirrel, The, 113, 169, 170 
Starling, The, 203, 245, 347, 348 
Swallow, The Chimney, 393 
Swine, Ferti lity of the, 53 


Kate Coleman, 94; Keeping up Appearances, 

223, 238; Live Dolls, 350; Man of Many Ad- 
ventures, 254, 269 , Man and Woman, a Ro- 
mance of Real Life, 317; Modern Accom- 
plishments, 158, 188; Old Periodicals, 300; 
Miss P. Firkin, 45, 61: Two Coats, 382, 396; 

Town and Country, 139 ; Trying it on, or the 
Mis-Fit, 366 ; Widows, 333; Whitebait at 
Greenwich, 414 


Affection of William the Conqueror, 79 ; Caloric 
in America, 2: Elegant Compliment, 109; 
Epitaph on the Tombstone of a Young Lady, 
79; Epping Sausages "Real," 109; Fox and 
the Leopard, 109 ; Leap Year, 79 ; Nice Dis- 
tinctions, ibid; Pastoral Sympathy, ibid, 
Rural Maiden, A, ibid ; Times Past and Present, 
109; What is a Sensation? 79 

Things Wonderful and True, 115 

" Thought Reading," 295 

Thrush, Confidence of the, 345, 410 

Piping, 57 

Food for, 89 

How to tell the Sexes of, 1 86 

A Nest of, 163 

Thrush, Rock, 266 
Toad, A remarkable, 298 
Tree Frog in Scotland, 224 
Trout in Derwentwater, 372 
Turn out your Toes, 266 
Turnspit Dogs, 23 
Unknown Ships, The, 311 
Vegetable Diet, 48 
Venus Lizard, The, 20 
Viper, A strange, 87 
Wagtail, The Grey, 220 

— in a Cage, 316 

Water-glasses for Birds, a Caution, 364 
Wheatear, Nest of the, 219 
Whisper in a Mother's Ear, 160 
Wild Duck, The, 313, 347 
Wild Flowers, 374 


Good Hours, 64; Health, ibid; Industry, ibid; 
Justice, ibid; Obstinacy, ibid; Perseverance 
and Genius, ibid; Sympathies of Mind, ibid 

Woman's, The, Elevation League, 327 

Woodlark, The, 265, 282, 297 

Wood Pigeons, Alleged Docility of, 58 

Worms in Flower-pots, 256 

Wren, The, 26 

Wryneck and Tern, 345 

Yellow-hammer, The, 411 

Young Birds, Proper Food for, 364, 409 


Conducted by WILLIAM KIDD, of Hammersmith,— 

Author of the Familiar and Popular Essa.ys on "Natural History;" "British Song 
Birds;" " Birds op Passage ;"" Instinct and Reason ; " . 
" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c. 

"the OBJECT op our work is to make men WISER, WITHOUT obliging them to turn over folios AND 


No. 1.— 1852. 


Price l%d. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price 7c?. 


It is now several years since we last 
chatted with some ten thousand of our good 
and well-tried friends, the Public, in the 
character of a " London Journalist." We 
have, nevertheless, been conversing with 
them from time to time, in other channels, 
though not (in all of them) avowedly under 
our signature proper.* We trust, nay firmly 
believe, we may now number in our train 
"another ten thousand." This would be 
"protective." May our " faith " prove the 
substance of what we " hope " for ! 

Since the termination of the last Volume 
of our " London Journal," — when, it will be 
remembered, severe illness caused us to lay 
aside our pen — a new era has sprung up. 
Habits have altered; Fashions have altered 
— on which subject we purpose anon to be 
eloquent ; Manners have altered. Whether 
the change in some, or all of these, be for 
the better, we shall presently inquire. 

A variety of circumstances, on which it is 
unnecessary to dwell here, have prevented 
until now, our re-appearance before the Public 
in the first person singular ; nor should we 
now, perhaps, have made such a venture, 
had it not been to a certain extent " forced" 
upon us. We have however received such 
kind, such pressing solicitations from all 
quarters to renew the suspended intimacy, 
that we see no alternative but to let the 
New Year be the signal for the reunion. We 
have thought it advisable to retain the ori- 
ginal Title of " Kidd's London Journal," 
inasmuch as, by it, we formerly became so 
extensively known. We may remark, en 
passant, that Six goodly tomes of our " Lon- 
don Journal " are already before the public ; 

* We are at present engaged in furnishing to the 
" Gardeners' Chronicle" Newspaper, a long and in- 
teresting Series of Articles on " British Song Birds." 
Of these, Sixty Chapters ' have already appeared, and 
the subject will be continued Weekly' (with our name 
attached), until completed. 

which " speak volumes," as they were bound 
to do, of our handiwork. It is pleasing to 
find, on diligent inquiry made among the 
Booksellers, that out of so very many hun- 
dreds issued by us, not a single copy of them 
can now be obtained at any price. 

It will be readily surmised, and as fully 
expected, that Natural History, and the 
Habits of Animals, will be our principal 
matters for consideration — including of course 
Observations on Poultry, Bees, Dogs, In- 
sects, Flowers, Fish, the Cultivation of 
Gardens, &c, &c. ; indeed all those Ele- 
gancies, Refinements, and Utilities of life, 
which have now happily become so attrac- 
tive and so popular. " Correspondence " on 
these and similar subjects we earnestly covet. 

Au reste ; we can hardly do better than 
transcribe, almost literally, the Prefatory 
Remarks which appeared in a former Vo- 
lume : — • 

" Our object," as we then recorded, "is to 
render our Paper Amusing as well as In- 
structive, and to introduce Science in a popu- 
lar and pleasing form; presenting our readers 
with choice extracts from every work 
OP merit, new or old, that may come under 
our observation — not confining ourselves 
to any limited or particular subjects, but 
introducing all in turn. Also, to perpetuate 
in our columns the essence OP every thing 
that is good — Instruction and Entertain- 
ment being rendered inseparable friends, 
and Morality keeping her foot firmly fixed 
upon the neck of Vice. 

" Not a topic of any public interest 
(Politics alone excepted), shall escape our 
observation, without being commented on ; 
neither shall any public grievance exist, 
without our voice and pen being cheerfully 
and vigorously raised to assist in putting it 
down. We name this here, in order that it 
may form a legitimate feature in our Paper 
when needful. 

" One great object with us will be, to ga- 
ther up in a manner peculiarly our own, 

Vol. I.— New Series. 


certain 'Elegant Trifles' that otherwise 
might wander down the stream of time and 
perish in forgetf illness. Another—to foster 
and encourage latent talent ; and a third, to 
throw open our Columns for fail* and 
temperate Discussion on all Subjects con- 
nected with the best interests of Society and 
the Useful Arts. This will enable us to 
arrive at ' truth,' which ought to be the basis 
of every branch of Science." 

Here we must halt. 

Now that our Friends know the tack on 
which we wish to sail, let us ask them 
frankly for a helping hand. Everybody has 
something interesting to relate, something 
new to tell. In helping us, they help them- 
selves, and the public too. All are gainers 
thereby. Such " mutual exchanges " are 
indeed " profitable investments." 

Our next immediate step, adopting the 
practice of both Houses of Parliament, will 
be— to Order that 

" This Paper be Printed." 
If our legion of anticipated readers will 
follow another equally good example, set by 
the same honorable Assemblies, and Order 
that our Paper 

"Do lie upon the Table" — 

then will our fondest wishes be realised. 
Our " good ship" will soon be "under weigh." 
The fires are lighted, the steam is being 
generated, and our machinery is in excellent 
trim. But as we shall have sometimes^ to 
put on extra power, and work by "high 
pressure," it rests with our kind patrons, 
the Public, to keep our "boilers" in order 
by pouring in plenty of their copper. Half- 
pence and penny-pieces will do nicely, So 
far as we are concerned, that is our " Safety 
Valve." Verbum sat! But we hear the 
Captain shouting out to us— " Go ON ! " we 
must therefore at once to our post. 


As it is our desire to make this Periodical 
useful as well as readable ; and as much 
knowledge is to be found in books — we 
purpose, not so much to shew our critical 
acumen in the analysis of their con- 
tents by sitting in judgment upon their 
deficiencies, as to extract from them that 
which is really good. It may fairly be 
inferred that, if the books noticed are not 
worthy of that honour, they would never 
have been selected by us. We shall al- 
ways cultivate conciseness, believing, as 
we do, that "brevity is the soul of wit," 
and the very essence of wisdom; and there 
can be no doubt that as we progress, this 
particular department of our " London 
Journal 1 ' will be one of very considerable 

The Naturalist, — A popular Monthly Maga- 
zine, illustrative of the Animal, Vegetable, 
and Mineral Kingdoms. Conducted by 
Beverley R. Morris, Esq., A.B., M.D., 
T.C.D., Mem. Wern. Club.— Nos. 1 to 10. 
— Groombridge and Sons. 

This is a monthly periodical, established 
with the laudable view of eliciting " facts " 
connected with the various branches of 
Natural History ; and the Editor has shown 
much judgment in requiring the names and 
addresses of all contributors before their 
articles can appear. This gives the public, 
confidence in the authenticity of the commu- 
nications ; and it takes all undue responsi- 
bility from the Editor. Among the writers, 
we recognise many estimable, clever men, 
and we have been pleased to mark the ami- 
able spirit which pervades all their writ- 
ings. The work has now been before the 
public nearly a twelvemonth, and each 
successive number has shown an improve- 
ment ; we do not mean in the value, but ra- 
ther in the extent of the communications. 

Natural History seems now to be a 
favorite study with the public, and we 
attribute this, in a great measure, to the 
popular and agreeable form in which, from 
time to time, the subject is brought before 
them. Dry and mere matter-of-fact books 
have had their clay, and a spirit of inquiry is 
abroad that promises well for the future. 

From the mass of valuable matter con- 
tained in these ten numbers, we might 
enrich our pages to a considerable extent ; 
for singular anecdotes and remarkable pecu- 
liarities of birds, animals, &c, drawn by gra- 
phic pens, abound. But we shall, on the 
present occasion, merely make one selection, 
with a view of correcting an error put forth 
by Mr. Smee, in respect to the want of 
sight in the Mole. Mr. S. Hannaford, junior, 
a very observant naturalist, and regular con- 
tributor, writes thus at page 193 : — 

" I was much surprised, on reading Mr. Smee's 
'Instinct and Reason,' to observe the following: 
' There is a common animal in the fields, which, 
being almost exclusively in the dark, in subter- 
raneous passages, has no eyes. This creature is 
the sleek-skinned Mole. It is a common proverb 
to speak of a person as blind as a mole, but it is 
equally common to hear the casual observer speak 
of the error of the proverb ; because on turning 
aside the hairs on each side of the head, a little 
black tubercle appears, which is called an eye. 
These black tubercles have no optical contri- 
vance, and a distinguished physiologist has 
shewn that the little tubercle is not supplied by 
the optic nerve. In consequence of this creature 
having no eyeballs, there are no sockets in the 
skull to receive the eyeballs.' — Instinct and 
Reason, page 26. 

" This was so much at variance with my own 
ideas on the matter, that I immediately con- 
sulted all the works on Natural History in my 

possession, but did not find a single corrobora- 
tion of Mr. Smee's assertion. I give the follow- 
ing extracts, as it is a pity that any such 
statement, if unfounded, should remain unre- 
futed : — 

" ' The smallness of the eyes is to this animal a 
peculiar happiness; a small degree of vision is 
sufficient for an animal ever destined to live 
underground; had these organs been larger, 
they would have been perpetually liable to 
injuries, by the earth falling into them; but na- 
ture, to prevent that inconvenience, hath not 
only made them very small, but also covered them 
very closely with * fur. Anatomists mention, 
besides these, a third very wonderful contrivance 
for their security, and inform us that each eye is 
furnished with a certain muscle, by which the 
animal has the power of withdrawing or exsert- 
ingthem, according toHts exigencies.' — Pennants 
British Zoology, vol I, page 130, 8vo. ed. 

" ' The mole, though not blind, has eyes so 
small and so covered, that it can have little 
benefit from the sense of seeing.' — Buffon, vol 5, 
page 358. 

" ' The e} r es are so small, and so hidden beneath 
the hair, that their existence even was denied 
for a while. They have been ascertained, how- 
ever, to be tolerably sharp-sighted.' — Cuvier. 

" ' The actual existence of a visual organ, 
though in an imperfect state of development, is 
well known ; and the open condition of the eye- 
lids, in the common species, at least, would lead 
to the conclusion that this sense is not abso- 
lutely wauting to it.' — Bell's Quadrupeds." 

That the eyes of the mole were design- 
edly made to assist its sight when above 
ground, cannot reasonably be doubted. 
However giimmering and faint the ray of 
light presenting itself, yet it well answers 
the required purpose, and gives notice to the 
animal when to withdraw from observation. 
All the old writers agree in this ; Ray, in 
particular, says : — ■ 

" I have made divers accurate dissections of 
the eyes of moles, with the help of microscopes, 
having a doubt whether what we take to be eyes, 
were such or no ; but upon a strict scrutiny, I 
plainly could distinguish the vitreous and crys- 
talline humours ; yea, the ligamentum ciliare and 
the atramentaceous mucus. The pupil I could 
manifestly discern to be round, and the cornea 
capped or conical. The eye is at a great dis- 
tance from the brain, the optic nerve very 
slender and long, reaching from the eye through 
the intermediate flesh. It so passeth to the 
brain, along with the pair of nerves reaching to 
the nose, which are much the largest in all the 
animal. These creatures, I imagine, have the 
faculty of withdrawing their eyes, if not quite 
into the head as snails, yet more or less within 
the hair, as they have more or less occasion to 
use or guard their eyes." 

We have "been somewhat particular in our 
remarks about The Naturalist, because it 
will save us hereafter the necessity of doing 
more, or little more, than merely quoting 

from it. It is a very valuable addition to 
our knowledge of the habits of animals, and 
issued at so cheap a rate as to be accessible 
to the masses. In the hands of its very able 
editor, Dr. Morris, it has flourished exceed- 
ingly the first year ; we hope it will more 
than treble its circulation ere the sun has 
again run his annual course. 

Outlines of Comparative Physiology, touching 
the Structure and Development of the Races 
of Animals, Living and Extinct. By Louis 
Agassiz, and A. A. Gould. II . G. Bohn. 

When we mention that this forms one of 
the volumes of Mr. " Bonn's Scientific Li- 
brary," we have said all that is needful to 
give it a hearty welcome with the reading 
public. Of all living publishers, Mr. Bohn 
stands pre-eminently alone, for the extreme 
beauty, correctness, and excessive cheapness 
of all his modern issues. Nor are these 
their only recommendations, for he has 
brought out some, and he contemplates 
bringing out many more, of the most valu- 
able books that ever saw the light. If the 
public fail to avail themselves of the hitherto 
unheard-of opportunities thus afforded for 
their edification and improvement by Mr. 
Bohn, they deserve to die and be buried in 
their ignorance. Thus much for the worthy 
bibliopole. Now to examine the volume be- 
fore us. 

Professor Agassiz, from the numerous and 
important additions he has made to natural 
science, renders any eulogium on his fame 
as a naturalist unnecessary. In conjunction 
with Mr. Gould, he has produced this goodly 
volume, which consists of the first portion 
of the " Principles of Zoology." It is avow- 
edly intended as a text -book for the use of 
our higher schools and colleges ; but no 
treatise could be better suited for giving the 
general reader a sound and wholesome 
knowledge of the Philosophy of Natural 
History, and the principles of Physiology. 
The arrangement is throughout clear, the 
style simple and lucid, and the range of 
subjects important and comprehensive. 

The editor of the work, Dr. Thomas 
Wright, tells us, in a modest preface, that 
he has enhanced the value of the original 
work by " making large and important ad- 
ditions to several chapters." In so doing, 
he has wisely and judiciously availed him- 
self of the valuable treatises of Cuvier, 
Carus, and Meckel on Comparative Ana- 
tomy ; and those of Tiedeman, Mliller, Va- 
lentin, and Wagner, on Physiology. 

We need hardly say that this will be a 
most valuable work for a journal like ours, 
as its pages are replete with information of 
the most interesting nature. At the present 
moment we can but direct attention to its 
publication. We must however add, that 

the volume is magnificently got up ; and 
we may say that it is splendidly illustrated 
by no fewer than 390 fine engravings on 
wood. Some twenty years ago the price 
would have been at least five guineas, in- 
stead of that number of shillings. Again, 
Ave repeat — Mr. Bohn is a patriot, whose 
love for the moral intellect of the public is, 
we should imagine, far greater than his zeal 
for his own interests. We could not say 
more — it would be unjust to say less. By 
the aid of this now extensive series of 
" Libraries," we hope, without injuring 
the worthy proprietor, to give our readers 
many a treat of savory mental fare. 

Anecdotes of the Habits and Instincts of Ani- 
mals. By Mrs. R. Lee, Author of " The 
African Wanderer," &c. — Grant and 

We have taken occasion, recently, to de- 
precate the publication of any anecdotes 
connected with animals that are not strictly 
consistent with truth. We feel quite sure 
that science suffers from it, and that the pub- 
lic faith is shaken by it : so that persons are 
reluctant to believe what really is true. 
This volume is filled with anecdotes to 
"amuse children," and, perhaps, "children 
of a larger growth." It will " amuse" them, no 
doubt, and so it has us. Without offering 
further comment, we subjoin a few speci- 
mens by way of " examples," leaving the 
public to judge between our few remarks, 
and the "facts" stated. We thought we 
knew something about the " instinct " of 
animals ; but the annexed cases puzzle us : — 

"Instinct" of a Eat. — u Bats are nocturnal 
in their habits, and like to live in sub- 
terranean, or mysterious abodes. They are 
found in islands lying in the midst of the 
ocean, till the moment of their discovery to us 
supposed not to have been visited by man, and 
yet the question still remains unsettled, whether 
the differences which exist in rats were caused by 
locality, or whether they were so from the be- 
ginning. There is now no known spot free from 
the Norway rat, and the greater the number, of 
course the more impudent they become. In 
Ceylon, I am told, where they are innumerable, 
they perch on the top of a chair, or screen, and 
sit there till something is thrown at them, at 
which they slowly retreat. A noise is heard in 
the verandah close by you, and you see a party 
of rats disputing with a dog for the possession 
of some object. A traveller in Ceylon saw his 
dogs set upon a rat, and making them relinquish 
it, he took it up by the tail, the dogs leaping after 
it the whole time ; he carried it into his dining- 
room, to examine it there by the light of the 
lamp, during the whole of which period it remained 
as if it were dead; limbs hanging, and not a 
muscle moving. After five minutes he threw it 
among the dogs, who were still in a state of great 
excitement; and to the astonishment of all pre- 

sent, it suddenly jumped upon its legs, and ran 
away so fast that it baffled all its pursuers I " 

The following also is a very strikingly 
curious, if 

" True" Anecdote op a (so-called) Dog: — 
" Two ladies, friends of a near relative of my 
own, from whom I received an account of the 
circumstance, were walking in Regent-street, and 
were accosted by a man who requested them to 
buy a beautiful little dog, covered with long, white 
hair, which he carried in his arms. Such, things 
are not uncommon in that part of London, and 
the ladies passed on without heeding him. He 
followed, and repeated his entreaties, stating, 
that as it was the last he had to sell, they should 
have it at a reasonable price. They looked at 
the animal ; it was really an exquisite little crea- 
ture, and they were at last persuaded. The man 
took it home for them, received his money, and 
left the dog in the arms of one of the ladies. A 
short time elapsed, and the dog, which had been 
very quiet, in spite of a restless, bright eye, began 
to show symptoms of uneasiness, and as he ran 
about the room exhibited some unusual move- 
ments, which rather alarmed the fair purchasers. 
At last, to their great dismay, the new dog ran 
squeaking up one of the window curtains, so 
that when the gentleman returned home a few 
minutes after, he found the ladies in consterna- 
tion, and right glad to have his assistance. He 
vigorously seized the animal, took out his pen- 
knife, cut off its covering, and displayed a large 
rat to their astonished eyes, and, of course, to its 
own destruction." (Fact!) 

We subjoin two other extracts : — 
The Eat and the Serpent. — " One after- 
noon, the commandant of Bathurst was quietly 
reading, when he heard a violent squeaking 
and hissing in the room below him, which 
was even with the ground, and contained stores . 
He took the key, and followed by his servants 
armed with sticks went to ascertain the cause. 
On opening the door they beheld a rat and a 
venomous serpent engaged in mortal combat. 
Nothing could be more beautiful than the action 
of both animals ; the rat had retreated for a mo- 
ment, and stood with flashing eyes ; the head of 
the serpent was reared to receive a fresh attack; 
again and again they closed and separated, but 
the reptile, although much bitten, gained the 
victory; the rat fell, foamed at the mouth, 
swelled to a great size, and died in a very few 
minutes. The serpent glided away, but was 
afterwards discovered in her nest with several 
young ones, in a crack of the store-room wall, 
close to a staircase, which we were in the habit 
of descending dailv, and where, in fact, I had 
often seen the serpents' heads peeping out, and 
had waited till they were withdrawn." 

"Want" op Instinct in the Eat. — " One 
evening, when at Bathurst, St. Mary's, I was 
sitting at work in an upper room, and in the 
midst of the stillness, heard something breath- 
ing close to me. There was no other person in 
the chamber except my child, who was asleep 
in bed. Although startled, I did not move, but 
casting my eyes round I saw a huge rat, sitting 
upon the table at my elbow, watching every move- 

mcnt of my fingers. I could scarcely help laugh- 
ing at his cool impudence, and suppose I had been 
too mueli absorbed by thought, or employment, 
to notice his approach. I gradually laid down my 
work, and slipping quietly out of the room, as if 
I had not perceived him, called the servants. It 
was supposed that there were nests of rats in the 
chimney ; for the Government House had been 
wisely provided with the possibility of having 
fires in the rooms during the rainy season ; and 
the hunt began. I jumped on to the bed, not 
only to be out of the way, but to keep the rats 
from the place where my child was. Two of 
the men, furnished with sticks, routed the enemy 
from their hiding-places, and four others squatted 
at the corners of the room, holding a cloth spread 
between their hands. They said it was most 
likely the rats would run round the walls, and 
they should therefore catch them in the open 
cloth. The event proved them to be right; the 
frightened animals rushed to them, were imme- 
diately enclosed, and their necks were wrung in 
a moment. After the hunt was ended, they were 
thrown over the verandah into the garden, to the 
number of at least fifty. In the morning, how- 
ever, they were all gone, but the foot-marks of 
the Genet cats told how they had been removed." 

Verily, as saitli Hamlet, " There are more 
tilings in Heaven and earth than are dreamt 
of in our philosophy ! " 

The Country House — The Poultry Yard. — 
Charles Knight. 

In Mr. Charles Knight we have an excel- 
lent ally. No sooner are we in the field to 
try and open a cheap weekly communication 
with the public on the various domestic con- 
veniences and elegancies of every day life, 
than we find material fitted to our hand, 
ready at command ; and at so cheap a rate 
too ! 

This little brochure is one of a series of 
12 ; which, when completed, will form three 
handsome volumes. They will comprise, 
The Dictionary of the Farm, the Dairy, the 
Piggery, the Stable, the Sheepfold, Kitchen 
Garden, Flower Garden, &c. &c. 

We never remember to have met with a 
better work on poultry than this ; nor with 
one so correctly illustrated. The wood-cuts 
are admirable ; the arrangement of the 
matter is excellent : all breeds of Poultry are 
enumerated and commented upon, and very 
sensible remarks made about their proper 
care and management ; also, ample directions 
are given for their cure when ill. Then we 
have, inter alia, an interesting discussion on 
the whole race of doves and pigeons ; and as 
much practical information afforded on each 
subject as is usually confined to large volumes. 
Such books as these must become popular. 
In justice to the author, we select a specimen 
of his descriptive and attractive style. 
Speaking of the exodus of a newly-hatched 
chick from the shell, he says : — 

"Let us now suppose that the chick has 
opened the door of its egg. Feeble trembler, on. 
the verge of an unknown state of existence ! what 
are its sensations? Had it but reason, how ap- 
plicable to it would be Buffon's eloquent descrip- 
tion of man, springing up at the bidding of his 
Creator into life and light, at once enraptured, 
perplexed, and bewildered. But the chick is 
guided by instinct, and by instinct alone; it has 
nothing to learn, no ideas to be conceived through 
the medium of the senses, and yet it is interesting 
to watch it at this juncture. It is free; the first 
thing it does, while yet on the threshold of the 
egg, is to draw its head from under its wing, and 
to direct it forwards, the neck trembling beneath 
the weight which it has now for the first time to 
sustain. With its neck stretched forwards, and 
scarcely able to raise itself on its legs, it rests for 
a few minutes, till its strength be recruited ; the 
fresh air revives it, it raises itself up, it lifts its 
head, it turns its neck from side to side, and 
begins to feel its innate powers. Its downy 
plumage, the precursor of feathers, being wet 
with the fluid of the egg, lies close to the skin, 
in stripes down the body and on the wings; be- 
sides, it is not yet fairly free from the sheath in 
which every plumelet is inclosed. As it dries, 
every tuft expands, or opens, like a feathery 
flower; the little membranous sheaths split, and 
fall off; and the chick rises in its nest, clothed 
with a downy garment of exquisite delicacy." 

Home Influence; A Tale for Mothers and 
Daughters. By Grace Aguilar. 4th edi- 
tion. 12mo. 

The Mother's Recompense; A Sequel to the 
Above. By the same author. Second 
edition. 12mo. — Groombridge and Sons. 

Grace Aguilar, now no more, was, while 
she lived, a wonder amongst women. Before 
she attained the age of 19, we are told, she 
had completed the structure of these two 
admirable volumes. We say admirable, 
because their conception and execution are 
alike happy. They are written with a 
fervour of feeling, eloquence of expression, 
and power of argument, quite irresistible. 
Full of love for mankind, and anxious by her 
pen to consult their best interests, we have, 
wrought up in these two volumes, all that 
we can conceive of human excellence con- 
veyed by both precept and example. 

" Home Influence " is a tale possessed 
not only of a charming moral, showing how 
impossible it is to be truly happy without 
continuing in the paths of rectitude and 
uprightness ; but it is written with a ner- 
vous energy, and in graceful language, 
which are quite captivating. Happy they, 
who have a kind and affectionate parent so 
to direct them in the " Battle of Life ! " 

" The Mother's Recompense " is another 
book equally well written, and by the same 
pen, and forms a suitable companion to its 
predecessor, " LTome Influence." Happy 
parent, again say we, to live to see the fruit 


of her labour ripen, and all her fondest 
hopes realized! It would be good for 
society had we a few more Grace Agoilars. 

The Critic, London Literary Journal. — John 
Crockford, Publisher 

We have watched with great curiosity, for 
many years, the gradual progress of this 
literary paper ; now most assuredly, so far 
as merit, aye, and circulation are concerned, 
at the head of the so-called " organs of com- 
munication " with the reading public. 

The difficulties that have beset the worthy 
proprietors and their staff in establishing 
this periodical, have been such, that — but for 
untiring energy, unity of purpose, and a 
fixed determination to conquer (which, in nine 
cases out often, wins the battle), they must 
have suffered fatal shipwreck. 

Opposed, manibus pedibusque, by " the 
Trade " and their minions, no helping hand 
could they get there. No books would be 
sent for " review;" no advertisements sent 
in to reduce the cost of production. " We 
have our own organs," said the publishers ; 
"you are an interloper, and we shall not 
support you." They spake, and it was done ! 

Thwarted, baffled for the time, but not 
" put down " as intended, these lions among 
letters held a consultation. " In the multi- 
tude of counsellors, there wanteth not wis- 
dom." A plan was projected, discussed, 
approved — acted upon. 

A phalanx of scholars was summoned to 
take the helm of the good ship, whilst fitting 
out. Soon a fair breeze sprung up ; the 
vessel was launched, and glided steadily 
over the waves of opposition. Merit was 
recognised throughout the pages of the 
Critic. It was methodically made known 
by public advertisement, and by gratuitous 
distribution. The difficulties of parturition 
safely over, a healthy offspring stood con- 

It were needless for us to pursue the in- 
quiry more closely, as to how its present high 
eminence was reached. Suffice it to say 
that, by means of unceasing canvass, con- 
ducted in a gentlemanly manner by intelli- 
gent men, the paper now finds its way 
'direct from the office of publication — a master- 
stroke of long-sighted policy — into the 
hands of very nearly seven thousand of the 
reading public ! 

How gratifying must this be to the pro- 
jectors — how galling to their grovelling, 
narrow-minded opponents ! Fearlessly in- 
dependent as we ever have been ourselves, 
how WE revel in the thought of this signal 
triumph of ''right." over "might!" The 
pithy saying — ■ 

"Aide tot et le Ciel {aider a" 
never was more happily confirmed. Let this 
"pursuit of extending knowledge under diffi- 

culties," and its results, be written with a 
pen of iron on the memory of every reader 
of our London Journal. 

We must not stop here. It is too noto- 
rious to need comment, that the so-called 
" organs " of " the trade" are in the habit 
of noticing books for a eon-si-de-ra-ti-on — 
not indeed directly offered in current coin, 
but in the form of advertisements, for the 
insertion of which heavy prices are charged. 
This is not, of course, objected to by the 
publishers, IC under the circumstances." 
Which way the reviewer's bias leads, " under 
the (aforesaid) circumstances," this deponent 
sayeth not. 

Proudly return we, for one moment, to 
the Critic, No favor have we here — no 
promise ; no tacit hint of a " favorable re- 
view if an advertisement accompany the book 
sent." " Send your books," say they, " and 
we will notice them according to their 
merit." What is the consequence of this 
grand line of demarcation between the Critic, 
and the " organs " of " the trade?" Why 
this. We find that a book " cut up " by the 
Critic, is lauded to the skies by the opposite 
party. u Laudatur ab his, culpatur ah Mis ! " — 
much to the astonishment of literary parve- 
nus, and to the bewilderment of the casual 
reader. In the one case, the Critic pur- 
chases all the books it reviews, and can 
therefore afford to be honest ; in the other — 
but we need not go over that ground again. 

The proud position now occupied by the 
Critic* decidedly the literary " organ " of 
the public — impels even us, in our little ven- 
ture, to hold up our heads manfully. We 
shall do our best in a plain, straightforward 
manner, to please our friends, and leave the 
issue in the hands of the public. 

Let us add in conclusion, that we do not 
know, even by name (sad ignorance we 
grant !), one single individual who writes for 
the Critic. An " offering " therefore of 
this kind, without their privity, must prove 
that our sentiments are as honest as the ex- 
ercise of our duty is imperatively called for — 
" Palmam qui meruit ferat ! " 

* We should name here, that the Critic is not 
a "weekly" periodical. The proprietors wisely 
remark, that they can, by issuing it every fort- 
night, bring down the information required to 
the very latest moment ; and thus afford a mass 
— a mass, indeed ! — of intellectual and instructive 
matter that will require at least a fortnight 
comfortably to read and digest. It is, in truth, 
a masterly production, vieAved in every depart- 
ment of its numerous and well- arranged subjects; 
and the price, notwithstanding, simply that of a 
common Newspaper! 

Age.— Age is like the air we breathe ; 
every one feels it, but no one sees it. 

The Magnetoscope, 

This important invention, the discovery 
of which is vested in Mr. Eutter, of Black 
Rock, Brighton, alone — has recently been 
introduced to the London public by means 
of a series of Popular Lectures. 

We have attended one of these lec- 
tures, delivered by Dr. T. Lecier, a gentle- 
man of considerable scientific acquirements. 
The subject excited great attention from a 
large auditory, many of whom, although 
giving evidence of their having come as 
sceptics, left the room (Hungerford Hall) 
fully satisfied as regards the "Discovery/' 
that there was something in it. So thought 
WE,simply because what was asserted by 
the lecturer, as haying been discovered by 
Mr Eutter, was fully proven to the eye. 

As we shall have occasion, repeatedly, 
whilst discoursing on matters of popular 
science (for we wish to make all our essays 
" popular," and intelligible to the masses), 
to speak of this wonderful instrument as 
connected with certain curious, astounding, 
and interesting phenomena, — Ave will now 
only give a succinct account of its nature 
and singular properties. The elemental 
particulars are gleaned from a lecture on 
the instrument, delivered by Dr. Madden 
of Brighton. The lecture given by Dr. T. 
Leger (before referred to) will form occa- 
sion for further comment hereafter. We 
may just mention, that the last-named gen- 
tleman has constructed an instrument, which 
he considers an improvement upon that of 
Mr. Eutter, inasmuch as it confirms, he says, 
by undeniable demonstration, the truth of 
the discovery. But now for 

" From a stand fixed firmly to the table, there 
rises perpendicularly a rod of wood, say eighteen 
or twenty inches high, having a brass knob on 
the top. From the knob projects at right angles 
with the upright a brass arm, say nine inches 
long, tapering to a fine end. A fine silken 
filament is attached to one end of a small spindle- 
shaped piece of sealing-wax like a fisherman's 
float — but the shape is not material. This is 
hung from the extremity of the brass arm ; and 
the line being merely a raw thread taken from 
the cocoon, there is no twist or tendency to turn 
in it, but the plumbob hangs free to vibrate or 
circulate, or adopt any motion in obedience to 
the infinitesimal influences which are to act upon it. 
?i i " Immediately underneath the centre of the 
bob is a small circular wooden plate, say four 
inches in diameter, so made as to be fixed in a 
horizontal position, higher or lower — that is, 
nearer to or farther from the lower point of the 
bob. On this is placed a glass dish, rather less 
than the tablet it rests on, and about as deep as 
the bob is long, The tablet is then moved up- 
wards, until the lower end of the bob almost 
touches the centre of the glass dish. The bob, 

thus hanging down into the dish, is protected 
from the accidental movements of the surround- 
ing air. If it be thought desirable, however, the 
whole line and bob can be surrounded with a 
glass shade, such as are placed over artificial 
flowers or small statuary, having a hole in the 
top for the string to pass through. [This is 

" The apparatus being thus prepared, and the 
sealing-wax bob hanging dead from the brass 
arm, and all parts at rest, the operator placed 
the finger and thumb of his right hand upon the 
brass knob, and almost without any perceptible 
interval the bob was evidently moved; in a few 
seconds it was decidedly making an effort to 
swing round, and in less than a minute was steadily 
careering in a circle parallel to the sides of the glass 
dish, the lower end of the bob tracing a circle of 
perhaps two inches in diameter, or the size of a 
crown-piece, from left to right, as the hands of a 
watch move. The lecturer said he would call 
this the normal motion, being that which was 
invariably produced, at least after some practice; 
but it was a curious fact, and as yet unaccount- 
able, that many of the movements were different 
with different individuals — that they were often 
even different with a given individual on first 
experimenting and after considerable practice; 
but that there came a time when an operator 
could depend on the movement peculiar to him- 
self occurring without exception. This left-to- 
right movement invariably occurred, however 
often the experiment was made, the bob invari- 
ably beginning to swing with the sun a few se- 
conds after the application of the finger and 
thumb to the knob. He stated, too, that many 
experiments which at first were difficult or gave 
dubious results, became sure and unvarying as the 
operator increased in delicacy by practice. 

" The mode of stopping the movement is by 
taking a piece of bone in the left hand, when the 
motion gradually slackens and ceases. With 
Mr. Rutter, the bob will stop almost immediately, 
but with Dr. Madden the time occupied is tedi- 
ously long, and therefore more forcible means 
were on the present occasion employed when it 
was wished to commence a new experiment. 
[This deserves attention.] The lecturer, how- 
ever, shewed an equally satisfactory experiment. 
Placing the finger and thumb of the right hand 
to the knob, and holding a piece of bone in the 
left, no movement Avhatever could be produced ; 
on dropping the bone from his palm, the bob was 
instantly stirred, and, in a few seconds, once more 
traced out the normal circle. [Curious this.] 

When only the finger was applied to the knob, 
the bob set up, not a circular but a to-and-fro 
movement, like a clock pendulum. On stopping 
it, and applying the thumb only, a similar pen- 
dulation was produced, but in a direction directly 
across and perpendicular to the former. The di- 
rection of the swing- for finger and thumb re- 
spectively, was always the same, however often 
the experiment might be tried — : that is, calling 
the direction for the finger N. and S., that for 
the thumb was E. and W. ; and if while the fin- 
ger was producing the N. and S. swing, the 
thumb was substituted, the bob was instantly 
affected — staggered, so to speak — and shuffled 
itself into the E. and W. direction. 


"While the lecturer held the knob by his 
fi nger and thumb, a person standing by touched 
the operator's left hand with his own right, when, 
instead of a circular motion, an oscillatory one 
was produced, but in a direction different from 
the other two. On this, a chain was formed by 
the gentlemen present joining hands, and as the 
chain increased, the arc of oscillation increased 
until the bob swung as far as the sides of the 
dish ; the contribution of a few more hands, and 
it must have struck the glass. If the bystander 
touched the experimenter with his finger (index) 
only, the same effect was produced as if the expe- 
rimenter touched the instrument with his finger only, 
and so with the thumb. 

"Now came the extraordinary and 'myste- 
rious ' part of the subject. The lecturer stated 
that if, while the operator's finger and thumb 
were producing the left-to-right movement, a 
woman were to touch his left hand, the bob would 
immediately refuse to proceed in the normal direc- 
tion, and be carried round in the opposite direction 
— right to left. [This is quite true; for we saw 
it proved by Dr. T. Leger, at Hungerford Hall.] 
No ladies were present, but the lecturer stated 
that anything which had been worn or carried 
about by a female for a length of time, or even 
a letter written by one, would do as well. In- 
credible as this may seem, it was put to the proof 
and succeeded. The instrument being at rest, 
the operator placed his right hand on the knob, 
and a letter written by a lady was laid in the palm 
of his left, when the bob immediately commenced a 
circular movement from right to left. This was 
tried with several documents, one of which was 
of the date of September 27th, twenty-four days 
previous. One of these experiments was startling, 
and touches on a disputed and much- vexed ques- 
tion; but we may venture to state what really 
occurred. One letter, placed on the hand, pro- 
duced an apparent indecision on the part of the 
bob to such an extent, that the lecturer ' gave 
it up;' he could not tell what sex the writer was. 
It proved to be a woman ; but the writing had 
been penned while in the mesmeric sleep — on 
which the lecturer remarked, that Mr. Mutter 
had already ascertained the fact of the disturbing 
influence exerted by a somnambulist." 

The above abridgment of " facts " must 
suffice. We hardly need remark, that if 
the " principle " herein involved be " true," 
(and we by no means pledge ourselves thus 
early to affirm that it is so), the doctrine of 
Homoeopathy is likely to go rapidly a-head. 
We gather this, not only from what we have 
given above, as evolved by the " experi- 
ments ; " but from the further and striking 
experiments submitted by Dr. T. Leger at 
Hungerford Hall. We shall have an eye 
upon this subject, and our readers shall 
reap the benefit of our observations. Mean- 
time, let us thank Mr. Rutter most cor- 
dially, and most sincerely, for the disinter- 
estedness and energy he has displayed 
towards the public, from first to last. To 
him alone, we repeat, is all the honour of the 
discovery justly due, " Suum cuique ! "is 
our invariable motto. 


kx.vitK.~~ By ail means send your proposed contribution. 
It has reference to a subject likely to be of very general 

Cantab.— It is impossible for us, at this early period, to 
define what you wish to know ; but every successive 
week will assist in developing it more clearly. 

Phii.os. — Yes, such subjects are quite admissible; but 
we wish all communications to be as concise as pos- 

Argus.— Now that our First Number is issued, and our 
desires are made known, you will see (with your 'hundred 
eyes') what aid it is that we so much covet. We are as 
anxious to expose abuses, as we are to inform the public 
mind. Your assistance is gladly accepted. 

Our ' Extra' Contributor's article on " Female Costume" 
is received. It is " pointed" -ly clever, and shall as- 
suredly have a place in our next number. It comes 
quite within the scope of our Journal to insert it. 
Thanks for your earnestness in the cause of Reform. 

Spectator. — Any hint of the kind that may strike you, 
we shall be glad to receive. Drop it into our Letter 
Box. Only give us a text, and we shall well under- 
stand how to "handle it." 

Legion.— We prefix this signature to express to our 
friends collectively how sensible we are of their kind 
promises of literary aid, which will be at all times 
most acceptable. 

Correspondents sending in any " facts" connected with 
Science or Natural History, are requested in every 
case to append their names and places of abode. In no 
instance, however, will their names be published with- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others. — It having been 
deemed expedient, to meet the views of the Trade, that 
this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
tion, Contributors and others will be so kind as to 
bear in mind that they must give us an extra " week's 
grace," and wait patiently till their favours appear. 

All persons who may send in MSS., but which may not 
be " accepted," are requested to preserve copies of 
them, as the Editor cannot hold himself responsible 
for their return. 

To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
need only order it to be sent to them by any of their 
local Booksellers or News vendors. It is published 
simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 

Saturday, January 3rd, 1852. 

It may very naturally be asked, — Why 
is another Literary Journal added to the 
already large number of those at present 
existing ? The answer is short and simple. 

The popularity of the subjects on Natural 
History, which we originated in the year 1849, 
in the Gardeners' Chronicle, (and which series 
of Articles are still in course of publication 
in that extensively-circulated paper) is such, 
that we are urged, positively urged, by those 
who wish us well, to issue a cheap Weekly 
medium of communication with the reading 
public, in which all such interesting topics 
can be more fully discussed, and entered 
upon in greater detail. It would indeed be 
unreasonable to expect these matters to be 
assigned more than a very limited space in 
a first-rate Horiicultural+p&ipei', their intro- 
duction being incidental rather than needful. 

Having given the matter our mature con - 
sideration, and calculated the chances of 
success, which, if our friends kindly rally 
round our standard as promised, we should 
hope cannot be doubtful — we have let the 
casting vote be in favor of the public voice. 


Our good friends, the Publishers, can aid 
us materially in our enterprise ; and we make 
no scruple in asking them to do so. " Unita 
vis fortiori There is nothing comparable 
to the "pull altogether." 

Now for a passing word about our ap- 
pearance to-day. 

It is an undeniable fact, that all first 
numbers of a New Periodical ought to be 
the best of any. It is as undeniable, that 
they are invariably the roorst of any. The 
reason is obvious. It is just as impossible 
to collect and arrange the necessary materiel 
for a forthcoming literary work, in a few 
short days, as it would be to get a new ma- 
chine to work perfectly when first taken, for 
an experimental trial, from the hands of the 
manufacturer. There always remains some 
slight improvement to be made, some little 
alteration or amendment to be introduced. 
Nevertheless, we are well content to let our 
first Number speak for us, so far as regards 
the new features which it holds out, and the 
plan, in outline, upon which we purpose to 

We see before us, a prospect of intense 
interest ; and our weekly task, as the seasons 
advance, will indeed be a " labour of love." 
As we well know who will be our readers, 
our pen will move with as much freedom of 
thought, as it does with celerity of touch ; 
and having the good will, and hearty wishes 
of the Public for our success, we have every 
reason to believe Ave shall — " go a-head ! " 


" How can I get rid of Eats ? " — I am 
told you know all about this ; having been so 
cruel a sufferer by their frightful depredations. 
I wrote to you some time since, though the Edi- 
tor of the Gardeners' Chronicle, for full particu- 
lars of your loss, and also to know how you 
exterminated the intruders. You referred me to 
three back numbers of that paper, for which I 
have applied vainly. They are, I am told, out 
of print. Now I cannot help thinking, that if 
you were to put the public in possession of the 
little affair ab initio, you would not he a loser 
thereby; for the ravages made by rats are, I fear, 
in many parts of the country, alarming. Will 
it be asking you too great a favor, to assist me in 
this matter ? I am sure it is of public interest, 
and therefore well suited to the "object" which 
you recognise so decidedly in your prospectus. 
—J. T., Hants. 

[We will gladly reprint these three articles, 
having, fortunately, a copy of the papers in our 
possession. The first will be found elsewhere, 
the others shall appear weekly.] 

The Cuckoo. — I have just read in the Family 
Herald, a periodical which finds its way I 
believe into every corner of the globe where 
there is a family — and so it ought, — some 
account copied from your writings, of the 

cuckoo. It would appear from the remarks 
made by the editor of the Family Herald, 
that there has been some "most interesting 
controversy" about this bird, a visitor so 
little understood in its singular habits. Do you 
mean to allude to it at all in your London 
Journal? I feel curious to know all that has 
been ascertained about its peculiarities ; for, in our 
part of the country, all sorts of stories are told, 
yet few of them, I imagine, true — Alfred M. 

[It is our intention, shortly, to collect all the 
materiel which has been recently brought before 
the public in " shreds and patches." The true 
habits of the bird are now fully known — not all, 
perhaps, but those which have hitherto been 
matters of dispute among vulgar minds.] 

Gold Fish. — Can you tell me if gold fish are 
easily tamed, and how I must teach them to feed 
from my hand? I have had a pair given me 
in a glass bowl, but they take little or no notice 
of me, or any one else. — A. W. 

[Goldfish are very easily tamed; but their 
tameness is more pleasing when they are seen 
disporting in a pond, or large body of water. 
Read the following, which appeared in the 
Gardeners' Journal, Nov. 15: — " About the mid- 
dle of July, 1850, four gold fish were put into 
the Victoria tank in the house in which the 
royal water lily is growing in the Royal Botanic 
Gardens, Regent's Park. The four fish in ques- 
tion were, at the time they were put into the tank, 
full grown. The water has been kept at about 
85 deg,, with a supply of fresh water constantly 
falling into the tank. In the course then of these 
fifteen months, these four golden fish have laid 
many thousands of golden eggs, and become the 
progenitors of three or four generations of young 
goldings, numbering a visible offspring of several 
hundreds, and many hundreds more below a line 
in depth which we regard as invisible. It was 
found that the Victoria lily, as well as the fish, 
rejoiced in brilliant sunbeams, as well as heat ; 
no shading was therefore used during the bright- 
est sunlight of the past summer, though abun- 
dance of top air was given. About a barrow- 
load of rough gravel was laid into a shallow part 
of the water in the tank, and in this neither soft 
nor smooth bed the gold fish delighted to nurse 
and rear their 3 r oung. The animalcules in the 
water are not now so plentiful as in summer, and 
there is besides a vast increase of little mouths 
to be fed. Their pasturage is therefore not so 
rich as it w r as some months ago ; and so keenly 
do they now watch to be fed that a finger dipped 
into the water, and slightly agitated, will instantly 
bring every fish in the tank to the same spot. 
They are quite tame, and if the hand be dipped 
into the water, it is immediately surrounded by 
scores of little nibbling mouths seeking for a few 

The Ostrich, — I fear you have been lately too 
severe, whilst writing about the unnatural habits 
of the ostrich. I have seen someAvhere in print, 
but cannot now rem ember in what publication 
it appeared, that this animal is very affectionate, 
and careful to provide for her young. If you 
insert this in your London Journal, as a 
query — no doubt, out of your host of readers, 



some one of them will be able to supply what 
I regret it is not in my power to send you. — J, I\ 
[This discussion is noAV going on elsewhere, 
and the inquiry promises to be very interesting. 
Thanks, however, for your vigilance.] 


" With what ease lie writes ! " said a 
young lady, as she laid down one of Wash- 
ington Irving's volumes. Straightway we 
made up our mind that the young lady did 
not know what she was talking about. Had 
she said " How easy it is to read his 
works," we could have sympathised with 
her amazingly. Then, rinding we could not 
make a satisfactory reply without compro- 
mising our honesty, we fell to making a 
comparison in silence. The steam-boat 
glides majestically and gracefully through 
the waters, but it is no easy power that 
gives to the water-traveller her steady and 
rapid motion. It is true she is tastefully 
painted and gilded ; her cabins are plea- 
sant, and her prow is decorated with speci- 
mens of the sculptor's art. But descend 
with the engineer to his fiery domain ; swel- 
ter there in the burning pit; see the heated 
grease, and listen to the bursting steam ; see 
the tremendous power of fire and water com- 
bined, until the strained and groaning 
boiler threatens to burst asunder, and deluge 
the decks with the heated fluid. You will 
perceive that Ease, although a mild and 
pleasing damsel, has a confounded rough 
old father. Little dreamed the admirer of 
Irving how much agonising toil was required 
to beget that ease which she so much de- 
lighted in ! Yet she was not alone in her 
error. How many a publisher thus lightly 
estimates the labour of his weary author ! 
How many tradesmen smile at the trifling 
employments of the man of Genius. We 
have been mad enough to eat a tripe supper, 
when we have heard the peasant draw an 
invidious comparison between himself and 
the poor wight whose intellect supplied him 
with bread. " I get my living by the sweat 
of my brow," said he, " while you are 
trifling away your time with books and 
papers." Yes, see that pale and hungry 
being, startled from his task by the sound of 
the midnight bell. See how Ins fingers 
grasp the pen convulsively, as he fears his 
task will not be accomplished in time — a 
slave to men whose pockets are better lined 
than their pericraniums, and who mete out 
to him his starveling pittance with the un- 
willing hand of an upper servant dealing out 
cold pancakes and sausage-ends, to a beggar. 
See him place both hands upon his snapping 
brain, as the fires of fancy dart from Apollo's 
mount upon his withering soul. Yes — " how 
easy lie writes ! " 

When our friends, who know what the 
solace of a leisure moment is, peruse our 
"London Journal" to-day — perhaps they 
will imagine u kow easily' 1 '' it has been pro- 
duced ! 

; PETS." 

A hint or two have just been seasonably 
thrown out to us in connection with our 
London Journal, of which we think it 
highly desirable to avail ourselves. An un- 
known, but zealous correspondent, writes : — 
" Nearly every family, Mr. Editor, keeps a 
bird of some kind, and feels greatly interested 
in all that concerns its welfare. Of these there 
are, of course, many sick, many ailing ; and 
their owners, being for the most part ig- 
norant of the mode of cure, or proper treat- 
ment, often lose their ' pets ' in consequence. 
A vast number, no doubt, perish every year 
in this way. Now, if you were to encourage 
all persons having invalid birds, to write 
and consult you about them, from week to 
week, you would not only enlighten the 
public generally, and make them greatly 
your debtors by the remedies you would 
propose ; but you would ' interest ' many 
thousands of persons, who would gladly take 
in your paper if it were only to obtain this 
particular class of information. There is no 
doubt that ' self-interest ' sways us in all 
we do. Why not, therefore, avail yourself of 
this ' weak point,' and turn it to your own 
particular advantage ? Rely on it, it would 
cause the sale of your journal to increase 
rapidly, and procure you a host of staunch 
friends and supporters in all parts of the 
country. Rich and poor, high and low, old 
and young, gentle and simple — all have a 
penchant for a bird of some sort ; and I very 
much question, whether this class of readers 
would not alone render your speculation a 
successful one. Then again, the ' breeding- 
season ' is coming on ; when there will be 
questions innumerable put to you. You 
will be consulted also upon a variety of 
other matters, to which there is scarcely 
any limit ; all, bear in mind, having reference 
to the expressed object of your London 
Journal. For instance, squirrels, ' pet ' 
dogs, rabbits, pigeons, the choice breeds of 
fancy fowl, and I know not how many other 
such matters, are sure to be brought under 
your cognisance for ' advice ; ' and how ex- 
ceedingly interesting is the discussion of 
these affairs, treated as you treat them, in a 
pleasing, l popular ' form ! 

"Again, let me put the question in another 
shape. There are a class of people— a nu- 
merous class — who have the (pardonable) 
vanity of loving to appear in print. These, 
when they write to consult you, will look 



every week for the appearance of your 
Paper, containing their letter, and your an- 
swer, with all the avidity of young authors. 
This will materially aid your circulation ; for 
these individuals will purchase many extra 
copies of your paper Avith a view to give 
publicity to their own lucubrations. If you 
understand these ' little amiable weaknesses ' 
of society as well as I do, you will readily 
estimate and fall in with my suggestions. 
I offer them in a friendly spirit, and with 
full confidence that, by and by, although 
unknown to you, I shall reap your thanks." 

We have printed the letter of our good- 
tempered correspondent verbatim et literatim, 
for there is something in it that pleases us. 
The idea is not a bad one, to work upon the 
" little amiable weaknesses " of society ; 
especially, when we give the quid pro quo. 
As Ave have made the feathered tribes our 
study, in doors and out of doors, for nearly 
thirty years — Ave do think ourselves duly 
qualified to hold " a consultation," Avhen 
applied to. 


As the study of birds, and a love for the 
innocent amusement created by a careful 
observation of their habits, is daily increas- 
ing, Ave offer no apology for inserting, or 
rather reprinting, the particulars of our OAvn 
unique Collection of Birds, destroyed by 
those pests of the farm and the garden — 
Rats. We shall, in our next, give the 
precise explanation of ~how Ave destroyed the 
enemy : for Ave are Avell aAvare that this 
subject is but too interesting to very many 
Avho Avill read our London Journal. We 
have been already, as will be seen elseAvhere, 
consulted on the matter. The following 
letter Avas addressed by us to the editor of 
the Gardeners' Chronicle, and appeared in 
that paper, January 12, 1850. Not being 
now obtainable, it Avill be the more Avel- 
come : — 

" Sir, — I have very frequently read in 
your columns, remarks on the best and most 
effectual means of getting rid of these 
atrocious vermin; but as I have not myself 
been personally interested at the time in 
their destruction, 1 have only become theo- 
retically acquainted Avith the subject in its 
general bearings. I am uoav about to crave 
the kind aid and advice of yourself and cor- 
respondents on a matter, to me, of vital im- 
port, and shall then be prepared to combine 
practice with theory; the result shall as- 
suredly be made known pro bono publico. 
But to my grievance. 

" For the last tAventy years I have been 
an amateur or " fancier " of song-birds ; and 
many little anecdotes connected Avith their 

personal history have appeared in your paper 
during the last feAV years. I built my birds, 
at starting, a large commodious aviary, and 
fitted it up in a style worthy of its inhabi- 
tants — the agrtinens of Avell-polished look- 
ing and toilet-glasses, everlasting fountains, 
and leafy foliage, not being Avanting to 
render their house an " ornithological pa- 
lace." My collection has been noted as one 
of the most select of its kind extant ; com- 
prising nightingales and other foreign song 
birds, and including specimens of nearly 
every chorister of the English Avoods and 

" The extreme number of birds my aviary 
has contained at one and the same time, 
has been 366 ; it having been a " weak 
point " Avith me to boast of having more 
birds in my possession "than there Avere 
days in a year." Alas ! I cannot say so 
noAv ! 

" Built as it is on a most picturesque spot, 
and arched over by a number of lofty fir 
trees groAving immediately in its rear (in 
Ravenscourt Park) — Nature and Art have 
vied Avith each other to render the personnel 
of my aviary unexceptionably beautiful. I 
have been thus explicit, Avith the view to 
place my yet unexplained grievance in a 
strong light. I say grievance, for the aviary 
is iioav completely dismantled, my birds are 
reduced to the number of eleven only, — 
Avhat a descent from poetry to prose ! — and 
these, confined in wire cages, are kept 
simply as mementoes of what they once 
Avere. ' Troja fuit ! ' 

" Noav I trace all my misery to an army 
of rats, Avhich, since the heavy rains of au- 
tumn, have quitted their usual haunts and 
unceremoniously " billeted " themselves 
upon me. These murderers first made their 
appearance at night, through holes eaten 
in various parts of the floor ; and every 
morning I as carefully nailed over the said 
holes flattened pieces of zinc : this, for a 
night or two, kept the marauders at bay. 
HoAvever, they very soon reappeared, until 
at last my flooring Avas almost completely 
" tesselated " Avith zinc. Not imagining for 
some time that they came to prey upon 
the birds, I placed poisoned food in their 
runs ; also "Harrison's Pills," &c, as strongly 
recommended by your correspondents. All 
these, hoAvever, remained untouched ; and 
the frightful diminution of my feathered 
friends, now apparent day by day, soon con- 
vinced me of the aAvful extent of my mis- 

" The climax is soon reached. On opening 
the aviary door one morning, about a fort- 
night since, a scene of devastation pre- 
sented itself which I will not, indeed can- 
not, attempt to describe. Suffice it to say, 
my eye fell instinctively on a large hole in 



the centre of the floor, which had been 
gnawed through an immensely thick pro- 
tective piece of wood ; and on counting the 
number of inmates, I found them just eleven ! 
To remove these, and in a fit of desperation 
to convert their late habitation into a green- 
house, was f he work of a short half hour ; 
and thus, " my tale is told." 

" The cunning of these rats has been im- 
mense. They must have carried on their 
operations of gnawing, while mounted one 
on the back of another (a system of theirs I 
have before now heard of) ; for the flooring 
is laid on wooden sleepers, and the distance 
from the ground below to the flooring 
above, is at least eight inches. To exter- 
minate these monsters is my full determi- 
nation, and I shall anxiously look for in- 
structions from you as to my best mode 
of procedure ; the more especially, when I 
add that I have in the immediate vicinity 
of the aviary nearly 100 head of poultry, 
many of them the choicest gold- spangled 
bantam breed of the late Sir John Sebright, 
and the finest specimens of the gold-spangled 
Hamburgh. I am told by a knowing neigh- 
bour, by way of comfort, that I may fully 
expect some morning to find the entrails 
of some of these torn out by the rats. 
What a lovely prospect ! Wm. Kidd, 
Sanders' 1 Cottage, New Road, Hammer- 
smith, Jan. 1, 1850." 

"Pickings up and Bettings Down." 

Distinguished Men always Hard-workers. 
—When we read the lives of distinguished men 
in any department, we find them almost always 
celebrated for the amount of labour they could 
perform. Demosthenes, Julius Cassar, Henry 
the Fourth of France, Lord Bacon, Sir Isaac 
NeAvton, Franklin, Washington, Napoleon — 
different as they were in their intellectual and 
moral qualities — were all renowned as hard- 
workers. We read how many days they could 
support the fatigues of a march ; how early they 
rose ; how late they watched ; how manj 7 hours 
they spent in the field, in the cabinet, in the 
court ; how many secretaries they kept employed ; 
in short, how hard they worked. All this power 
arises from energy, and a mind well directed. 
Patience and perseverance would cause the word 
" impossibility," to be expunged from our modern 
dictionaries ; the sooner the better, say we. 

'*Not" so bad, either! — Methinks to kiss 
ladies' hands after their lips, as some do, is like 
little boys, who, after they eat the apple, fall 
to the paring, out of the love they have to the 
apple. — Selden. 

Wit.— Wit I consider as a singular and un- 
avoidable manner of doing or saying anything, 
peculiar and natural to one man only, by which 
his speech and actions are distinguished from 
those of other men. — Congreve. 

Reflections tor the New Year.— At a 
season when all is cheerless without, and some 

have very little cheer within, we have pleasure 
in " dotting down" a few remarks from the 
elegant pen of that very choice, feeling poet, 
Charles Swain. We should like to have the 
honour of his acquaintance. The lines 
entitled : — 

Forget not the Unhappy. 


Forget not the unhappy 

Amid the bright and gay, 
The world can give you nothing 

It will not take away ; 
Make much, then, of the moments 

Ye never can renew, 
And forget not the unhappy, 

For oh, their friends are few ! 

Their friends are few, and faintly 

They whisper comfort now ; 
And offer scant assistance, 

With cold and cautious brow: 
Each minute they are gazing 

Upon their watch to go ; 
Oh, forget not the unhappy, 

For kindness cometh slow ! 

Forget not the unhappy ; 

Though sorrow may annoy, 
There's something then for memory 

Hereafter to enjoy! 
Oh, still from Fortune's garland 

Some flowers for others strew ; 
And forget not the unhappy, 

For oh ! their eriends are few. 

If people only knew once the happiness en- 
joyed from doing a kind, brotherly action, bring- 
ing with it its oivn rich reward, — Oh ! what a 
happy nation would ours be ! Try it. 


Our Own Fireside. 

Domas etplacens uxor. — Hor 

Who by sad fate relentless taught 

Thro' distant climes to roam, 
That has not sigh'd when memory sought 

To tell the joys of home? 
There's holy music in that sound, 

A source ol graceful pride; 
There's a heavenly charm that hovers round 

Our own bright fireside. 

Cares may distract, and sorrow's sting 

May vex the anxious breast ; 
Still there's a spot to which we cling — 

One where we hope to rest. 
Yes ! altho' tempest toss'd we sail] 

O'er life's eventful tide, 
There's one sure port will never fail -— 

Our own bright fireside. 

When round the hearth with fond delight 

The joyous faces smile, 
And friendship sheds its holy light 

All sorrows to beguile ; 
'Tis then we feel that though on earth 

Some blessings be denied, 
There's one — 'tis sure of heavenly birth — 

Our own bright fireside ! 



The Keepsake. 

The tedded hay, the first-fruits of the soil, 
The tedded hay and corn sheaves in one field, 
Show summer gone, ere come. The foxglove 

Sheds its loose purple bells, or in the gust, 
Or when it bends beneath the up-springing lark, 
Or mountain -finch alighting. And the rose 
(In vain the darling of successful love) 
Stands, like some boasted beauty of past years, 
The thorns remaining and the flowers all gone! 
Nor can I find, amid my lonely walk 
By rivulet, or spring, or wet road-side, 
That blue and bright-eyed flow'ret of the brook, 
Hope's gentle gem, the sweet Forget-me-not! 
So will not fade the flowers which Emmeline, 
With delicate fingers, on the snow-white silk 
Has work'd (the flower which most she knew I 

And, more beloved than they, her auburn hair. 

In the cool morning twilight, early waked 
By her full bosom's joyous restlessness, 
Leaving the soft bed to her sleeping sister> 
Softly she rose; and lightly stole along 
Down the slope coppice to the woodbine bower, 
Whose rich flowers, swinging in the morning 

Over their dim fast-moving shadoAVS hung — 
Making a quiet image of disquiet 
In the smooth, scarcely moving river-pool. 
There, in that bower where first she owned her 

And let me kiss my own warm tear of joy 
From off her glowing cheek, she sat and stretch'd 
The silk upon the frame, and work'd her name 
Between the Moss-rose and Forget-me-not — 
Her own clear name ! with her own auburn hair ! 
That forc'd to wander till sweet spring return, 
I yet might ne'er forget her smile, her look, 
Her voice (that even in her mirthful mood 
Has made me wish to steal away and weep), 
Nor yet the entrancement of that maiden kiss 
With which she promised that when spring 

return'd, » 

She would resign one-half of that dear name, 
And own thenceforth no other name than mine ! 



Young kings and queens, to every house, 
The jolly twelfth-cake brings ; * 

And all around the merry board 
Are happier far than kings. 

There is always an infusion of heartfelt 
glee and young life into the whole family 
upon those occasions, which are regarded as 
more particularly jubilees of direct and posi- 
tive enjoyment for the younger branches ; 
and in those lightings -up anew of the lamp 
of life in themselves, parents receive the 
sweetest reward for those attentions which na- 
ture so strongly prompts them to bestow upon 
their offspring, and which are in fact nothing- 
more than an equitable return for what the 
parents themselves received from a former 

generation. It is thus that society becomes 
the type or the copy of the life of a judi- 
cious and happy individual, by the succes- 
sion of generations in the one, being linked 
together in the same bonds of pleasurable 
feeling as a succession of days is in the 
other. Gratitude for the past and hope in 
the future, are the best foundations of pre- 
sent enjoyment and future improvement ; 
and when glachiess of the heart can thus be 
made a constant companion in the path of 
life, it is truly astonishing how sweet and 
flowery that path becomes ! 

Nor is there any better arrangement in 
domestic society than that this grand annual 
infusion of young life should take place at 
the commencement of the new year. Every 
year has of course its cares ; for care is not 
only inseparable from the lot of man, but 
" taking care " forms no small item in the 
aggregate of human wisdom. Care is how- 
ever only for the present execution and the 
future plan, and the moment that it becomes 
a care of yesterday, we should leave it be- 
hind and forget it, as useless and unprofit- 
able. Hence it is wise that there should be 
some period of the year at which the whole 
of its cares should be sent to " the tomb of 
all the Capulets ;" so that we may start anew 
in the course of life, with all our energies 
and all our hopes full and fresh upon us. 
We can do this more completely, just as 
the old year is closing and the new one 
opening, than we can at any other season. 
This is the time when all nature around us 
makes the most profound pause. The last 
leaf has fallen, not one bud has begun to 
swell, and so much do living creatures par- 
take in this cessation of activity, that not a 
sparrow on the house-top will so much as 
chirp. _ There is therefore nothing around us 
to entice our attention, and we are left far 
more to each other for enjoyment than at 
any other time of the year. 

But this has had its effect not only in 
those out-door occupations which depend 
upon the seasons, but in the in-door labours 
upon which there can be supposed to be little 
seasonal influence. Previous to Christmas, 
every one whips and spurs to have all 
matters brought to an issue ; and then, who 
would think of entering upon a new project 
in business, or taking[a journey ; or in short, 
beginning anything calculated to occupy the 
attention, until the twelfth-cake has been 
divided ? — and as this lapse of twelve clays is 
the grand sabbath of the year, it is wonder- 
ful how much, meantime, the tone of the 
mind and the vigour of the body may be 

One of the main causes of this renovation 
unquestionably consists in the blending of 
all ranks and ages at this particular season. 
During the months of toil and labour, each 



must pursue his own occupation ; and there 
is no doubt that the remembrance of these 
twelve days carries very many forward with 
light hearts and willing hands until half the 
year has gone by, and the hope of the next 
season of free and general enjoyment takes 
them up for the remaining half. Perhaps it 
is in the country where the full enjoyment 
of this season is felt ; and it is well that 
such should be, for it is there that the na- 
tural desolation of winter comes most home 
to the feelings. It is therefore a very judi- 
cious decree of the fashionables of this 
country, that the Christmas festivities should 
be by them marked in the calendar as the 
close of the summer ; and that they should 
invariably be celebrated at the family hall. 
Nor can we imagine a greater blessing to a 
neighbourhood than a frank, free, and feel- 
ing landlord, whose hall of fifty generations 
shall be thrown open, and whose Christmas 
festivities shall be tasted and talked of by 
every individual within his wide horizon. 
This is the very end and purpose for which a 
country gentleman, of whatever rank, was 
ordained ; and if he discharges not this duty, 
he had better at once become a statue in 
his own hall, or a dangler at some gaming- 
table in town, in order that that which he 
neglects and spoils may get into better 

But in our zeal for the Country, in which 
so much might be done at this season of 
festivity, we must not altogether forget the 
Town ; for though there are not the same 
facilities for hearty glee and renovated en- 
joyment on the great scale there, and though 
one man has it not in his power to contri- 
bute to the happiness of so many — it by no 
means follows that towns' folk are to be 
miserable. Their's is more an individual, 
or, more strictly speaking, a family matter ; 
but this is the time at which the members 
of the family are brought more completely 
together, and consequently it is the time at 
which they should contribute the most to 
each other's enjoyment ; and especially 
when the young should be practically taught 
those lessons of kind-heartedness and warm 
feeling which are to make them amiable 
through life. 

The circumstances of a town, especially 
one of such magnitude and such multifarious 
occupations as London, perhaps render it 
necessary, or at all events custom has so 
ruled it, that the younger branches of the 
family are "dispersed" during the greater part 
of the year ; and it is only at this season that 
they are brought together. Now it were 
wise that the feeling of home which is im- 
pressed upon them at this season, should 
go a little deeper than pantomime and plum- 
pudding. To these we have no objection, 
either in theory or in practice ; but they 

should be always seasoned with something 
which shall make the school-boy and the 
piano-devoted " miss " continue firm in their 
belief, till next Christmas, that papa is the 
wisest man and mamma the most kind and 
sensible woman on the face of the whole 
earth; — that every brother is so "manly 
and clever," and every sister " the sweetest 
girl you ever saw." How this is to be done, 
we pretend not to point out ; and though 
we have an opinion upon the subject, we 
shall not obtrude that opinion. We may 
teach folks how to toil, and every lesson is 
in some sort a labour ; but if people do not 
find out. their own enjoyments, their chance 
of having any is small indeed ! 

But we have forgotten the Cake ! ! This 
after all is no great matter, as our young 
friends are sure to remember it. Let them 
have it and enjoy it ; and while they are 
sustaining their "characters for the night," 
let older heads bear in mind that they have 
also " characters for life ; " and let them 
take care that these are well chosen and 
nobly sustained. 


Genius ! — What a World of imaginations 
and recollections are wakening at the name ! 
One sense of ineffable, unenviable glory, the 
pinnacle of a precipice, which some desire, 
but all dread : the height to which we climb 
perhaps in a dream, and slip from, only to 
perdition ; or, waking, thank our stars that 
we never tried it in reality. Such is genius 
in its own proud, solitary, and irrevocable 
position, from which, like the thoughtless 
sea-boy who placed his foot on the top-mast 
head, there is no medium, no descent, but a 
plunge into the yawning sea. Such was 
Napoleon's, who conquered all things, even 
hope ; too great to leave himself the possi- 
bility of permanence. Such was Scott's, 
accumulating lands and debts ; such Byron's, 
dazzling Europe, to die in its obscurest cor- 
ner ! and such, though in minor degree, the 
lot of those who can boast nothing of credit 
but dishonoured bills, and whose sole hope 
of remembrance rests, not in their own, but 
their tailors' books, where they stand im- 
mortalised from generation to generation 
without a chance of their 
effaced ! 

But what is Genius ? a spirit that makes 
all happy but itself and its tradesmen. This 
is scarcely a sufficient definition — folly itself 
might rival half this. Does it bring happi- 
ness to its possessor, in despite of storms ? 
— goodness alone can do so much ; or does 
it join with others to make every moment 
happy ? — assuredly not, by any means — but 
if the contrary, there is a vast deal of un- 
suspected genius in the world. 

6 V 





But Genius when it works, which is not 
often, works prodigies-, — and without any- 
apparent means ; it is a kind of mental 
engine, substituting steam ; and empty 
pockets are its locomotive power ; a power, 
unfortunately, never new, but yet in constant 
activity. Nature, said the philosophers, 
terribly abhors a vacuum, and every effort 
to obtain a plenum by the materia subtil is ; 
so does her favoured son ; both on the same 
system, carry it out to the utmost of their 
means, and spread it wherever they go : it is 
a power that is substance in vacuity ; and 
in obscurity light ; that in coldness wakes 
warmth, and glows amid destitution : that 
whispers to leaves, and feeds the fountains 
of the stars, and mingles for ever with the 
soul's overflowings ; bears the voice of winds, 
and holds the planets in their aerial course, 
and fills, though unseen, the blank intervals 
of life itself with a glow and a balm of 
ethereal ecstacy. In short, it does every- 
thing — but get money ! 

Food for Thought, 
"Forsan et hccc olim meminisse juvabit" 

Choice op Compant. — There is a certain 
magic or charm in company, for it will assimilate 
and make you like to them by much conversation 
with them. If they be good company, it is a 
great means to make you good, or confirm you 
in goodness ; but if they be bad, it is twenty to 
one but they will corrupt and infect you. There- 
fore be wary and shy in choosing and entertain- 
ing, or frequenting any company or companions ; 
be not too hasty in committing yourself to them ; 
stand off awhile till you have acquired of some 
that you know by experience to be faithful, what 
they are ; observe what company they keep ; be 
not too easy to gain acquaintance ; but stand off 
and keep a distance yet awhile, till you have ob- 
served and learned touching them. Men or 
women that are greedy of acquaintance, or hasty 
in it, are oftentimes snared in ill company be- 
fore they are aware, and entangled, so that they 
cannot easily get loose from it after, when they 
would. — Sir Matthew Hale. 

The Folly op Anger. — Two disputants 
arguing upon a religious subject, one of them 
grew angry, and began to use very violent lan- 
guage, which put an end to the debate. Some 
time after, when he had grown cool, he began 
to make excuses for his intemperate heat — he 
was interrupted by his opponent, who said, " Oh, 
sir, make no apology ; I was flattered by the cir- 
cumstance : for I felt assured that if you could 
have replied satisfactorily to my argument, you 
would not have become angry." This should 
be read by all the world ; for we hold it to be an 
invariable rule, that when men once get angry, 
argument is at an end. They are fairly worsted, 
and their quiet, reasoning opponent, always comes 
off victorious. — Probation est. 

Judgments, and Perverse Judgments. — 
When misfortunes happen to such as dissent 
from us in matters of religion, we call them 

judgments; when to those of our own sect, we 
call them trials; when to persons neither way 
distinguished, we are content to impute them to 
the settled course of things Shenstone. 

The Sea a Great Cemetery. — The sea is 
the largest of cemeteries, and its slumberers 
sleep without a monument. All other grave- 
yards, in all other lands, show some symbol of 
distinction between the great and small, the rich 
and the poor; but in that ocean cemetery the 
king and the clown, the prince and the peasant, 
are alike undistinguished. The same wave rolls 
over all — the same requiem by the minstrelsy of 
the ocean is sung to their honor. Over their 
remains the same storm beats and the same sun 
shines ; and there, unmarked, the weak and the 
powerful, the plumed and the unhonored, will 
sleep on until awakened by the same trump when 
the sea will give up its dead. I thought of sail- 
ing over the (slumbering but devoted Cookman, 
who, after his brief, but brilliant career, perished 
in the President — over the laughter-loving Power, 
who went down in the same ill-fated vessel we 
may have passed. In that cemetery sleeps the 
accomplished and pious Fisher; but where he 
and thousands of others of the noble spirits of 
the earth lie, no one but God knoweth. No 
marble rises to point out where their ashes are 
gathered, or where the lover of the good or wise 
can go and shed the tear of sympathy. Who 
can tell where lie the tens of thousands of Africa's 
sons who perished in the "middle passage?" 
Yet that cemetery hath ornaments of Jehovah. 
Never can I forget my days and nights as I 
passed over the noblest of cemeteries without a 
single human monument! — Thoughts by a Wan- 

Excellence is never granted to man but as 
the reward of labour. It argues indeed no small 
strength of mind, to persevere in habits of indus- 
try without the pleasure of perceiving those ad- 
vances, which like the hands of a clock, whilst 
they make hourly approaches to their point, yet 
proceed so slowly as to escape observation.— Sir 
Josh. Reynolds. 

Stray Meditations. 

Sorrows op Authors.— Many an immortal 
Avork, that is a source of exquisite enjoyment to 
mankind, has been written with the blood of the 
author, at the expense of his happiness and of 
his life. Even the most jocose productions have 
been composed with a wounded spirit. Cowper's 
humorous ballad of Gilpin was written in a state 
of despondency that bordered upon madness. 
" I wonder," says the poet, in a letter to Mr. 
Newton, "that a sportive thought should ever 
knock at the door of my intellects, and still more 
that it should gain admittance. It is as if har- 
lequin should intrude himself into the gloomy 
chamber where a corpse is deposited in state." 
In the Quarterly Review, it has been justly ob- 
served, that " our very greatest wits have not. been 
men of a gay and a vivacious disposition. Of 
Butler's private history, nothing remains but the 
record of his miseries; and Swift was never 
known to smile." Lord Byron, who was irrita- 
ble and unhappy, wrote some of the most amus- 
ing stanzas of Don Juan in his dreariest moods. 



In fact, the cheerfulness of an author's style is 
always but a doubtful indication of the serenity 
of his heart. An author is an abstract creation 
— " alter etidem," a living puzzle to himself, to 
his friends, and to all his acquaintance. 

Female Loveliness. — Female loveliness never 
appears to so good advantage as when set off 
with simplicity of dress. No artist ever decked 
his angels with towering feathers and gaudy jew- 
ellery, and our human angels, if they would 
make good their title to that name, should care- 
fully avoid ornaments which properly belong to 
Indians and African princesses. These tinselries 
may serve to give effect on the stage or upon a 
ball-room floor, but in daily life there is no sub- 
stitute for the charms of simplicity. A vulgar 
taste is not to be disguised by gold and diamonds. 


Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 
But is, when unadorned, adorned the most." 

So think we — not so, the million! 

How to break off a Bad Habit. — The 
late Mr. Loudon, the celebrated writer on gar- 
dening, &c, during the time he was suffering so 
severely from the pain in his arm, found no ease 
but from taking laudanum ; and he became at 
last so habituated to the use of this noxious po- 
tion, that he took a wine-glassful every eight 
hours. After the amputation of his arm, how- 
ever, he wished to leave off taking it, as he was 
aware of its injurious effects upon his general 
health; and he contrived to cure himself by 
putting a wine- glassful of cold water into his quart 
bottle of laudanum every time he took out a 
wine-glassful of the potion, so that the mixture 
became gradually weaker every day, till at last it 
was little more than water ; and he found that he 
had cured himself of this dangerous habit, with- 
out experiencing any inconvenience. — Ergo; cold 
water is the real panacea for nearly " all the ills 
that flesh is heir to." Thus much is certain; if 
a trial were made of it, our doctors' bills would 
soon grow " small by degrees, and beautifully 
less ! " We shall be happy to publish " authen- 
ticated cases " in our London Journal. 

"Facts" v. Fiction in Natural History. — 
There could not perhaps be a more fitting season 
than the present for us to enter our strongest 
protest against the excessive " tales of "Wonder 
and Imagination," connected with animals, that 
from time to time find their way into print, to 
the great and serious detriment of science and 
truth. Let it ever be borne in mind, that even 
truth itself becomes positive falsehood, if it be 
presented in any other than its right relations. 
There can be no truth but the whole truth ! 
Whatever is recorded contrary to the law of na- 
ture in any animal, and impossible to be traced 
to any sound principle connected therewith, must 
be regarded as apocryphal. It is just as imprac- 
ticable for us to become acquainted with a per- 
fect knowledge of animals, from popular and 
highly-coloured anecdotes and stories, as it would 
be to obtain an insight into human nature from 
the lavish outpourings of friendly partiality and 
parental fondness. A firm conviction of this 
truth always induces me to relate nothing but 

what I can corroborate — none but literal facts, — ■ 
Kidd's Essays on Instinct and Reason. 

A Sober Reflection for 1851-52. 

Watching the clear sky on a summer's evening, 
and the bright stars which glitter on its face and 
dart their radiance around, whilst the earth smiles 
in their presence, we fancy that we may rejoice 
in such enchantments for ever; but alas! in a few 
brief moments, darkening clouds arise, and sweep 
across our firmament. One by one the beaming- 
orbs disappear, and the horizon, sparkling no 
longer, is enveloped in a dreary expanse of cheer- 
less gloom. So it is in the social system, For 
awhile the brilliant lights of its sphere shed their 
halo around, and all is glowing and dazzling 
where they shine. The gleams of imagination 
and the flashes of intellect illumine the scene, 
and we fondly hope that the fleet pleasure will 
be immortal ; but the glories fade away, and the 
shadows of death gradually wrap the whole in 
oblivion. The stars will shine again from the 
heavens, and our own and others' eyes will again 
and again behold them ; but there is no returning 
for the friends we have loved and lost — there is 
no rekindling of the luminaries, and sometimes 
the meteors, of our brief existence, who have 
cheered its thorniest paths, and adorned its very 
sterility with the lustre of their gladsome influ- 
ence. The feast of reason is concluded, the flow of 
soul is o'er ! 

Landscape Scenery. 

No landscape, however admirable in other 
respects, is complete without " motion." We 
who are lovers of nature in all its beauties, 
gently insist on this. The swan must glide 
along the river ; the eagle wheel among the crags; 
the goat must bound among the precipices ; the 
herds and flocks graze in irregular groups along 
the valley. For this reason it is, that the poets 
never fail to animate their ideal landscapes with 
some interesting associations which imply "mo- 
tion " — such as the waving of woods, the falling 
of waters, and the flight of birds. We cannot to 
day, offer "examples" of this, although our 
mind is full of them. In the motion of landscape, 
what can be more agreeable than the waving of 
corn or trees, the calm gliding or the fierce rush- 
ing of rivers, the rising of columns of smoke, the 
unpremeditated motion of animals? Let us add 
to these, the majestic movements of the clouds 
marching before a storm, or gliding in stupendous 
masses along the vast expanse of the horizon ! 

Influence of " a Fog" upon a Landscape. 
— The most long-lived plants are not those which 
grow the fastest. So it is with friendship — that 
is commonly the most firm and durable, which 
grows up but slowly ; while that which, is hastily 
contracted is most liable to be dissolved. 

London:— Published by George Berger, Holywell 
Street, Strand (to whom all Letters and Communica- 
tions for the Editor, and Books for Review, are to be 
forwarded), and Procurable, by order, of every Book- 
seller and News vendor in the Kingdom. 

London : Myers & Co., Printers, 22, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 


Conducted toy WILLIAM kibd, of Hammersmith,— 

Author of the Familiar and Popular Essays on "Natural History;" "British Song 

Birds;" "Birds of Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" 

" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c. 

"the OBJECT of our work is to make MEN WISER, WITHOUT OBLIGING them to turn over folios and 


No. 2.—1852. 


Price \\d. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price Id. 




The old year — peace to his manes ! — lias 
departed. The sayings and doings of 1851 
are now mere matters of history ! " De 
mortnis nil nisi bonum " is an epitaph, than 
which none more appropriate could have 
been composed for our good friend's tomb. 
Let us record it on his grave-stone, to his 
honor ; for his reign has been a great, a 
good, a glorious, an ever-memorable reign — 
the blessings he has conferred upon his 
loving subjects have been neither few nor 
small. Nor have the feathered tribe reason 
to forget his lavish bounties ; for every suc- 
cessive season has yielded them a perfect 
" heaven of delights." All of us who have 
ranged the fields throughout the year, can 
and will most willingly testify of their un- 
bounded happiness, and of the unlimited 
provision the Creator has made for them 
from first to last. Let us here breathe an 
aspiration, that the mantle of our late most 
gracious sovereign, " 1851," may descend on 
the shoulders of his successor, " 1852," — to 
whose advent let all his lawful subjects 
shout—" All hail ! " 

As it has been our wont to notice, from 
time to time, the aspect of Nature, and to 
try to win, by the effort of our humble pen, 
as many admirers of this gentle handmaid as 
possible — we purpose, as the singing time 
for birds is not yet fully come, to offer a few 
stray thoughts on the opening year, which 
may not be irrelevant to the study of na- 
tural history generally. In the country 
alone, let us remark, can the habits of birds 
be fully arrived at. 

With us, Southrons, the " winter " season 
nominally commences on the 21st of De- 
cember ; so that, at the present time of 
writing, we may fairly bid good-bye to au- 
tumn and its lingering beauties. It is even 
now lovely in its death ; and it leaves traces 

behind it of many pleasant hours, the re- 
membrance of which will be ever sweet : — 

Farewell, clear Autumn, with thy vellow bowers, 
Thy waving skies, thy fields of sallow hue! 
Farewell, ye perishing and perished flowers, — 
Ye shall revive when vernal skies are blue; 
Bat now the tempest cloud of Winter lowers, 
Frosts are severe, and snow-flakes not a few ; 
Lifting their leafless houghs against the breeze, 
Forlorn appear the melancholy trees. 

Those who live in towns and cities are apt 
to imagine the season of winter a severe visi- 
tation, bringing with it necessarily " all the 
ills that flesh is heir to." To escape these 
as effectually as may be, they make up their 
minds either to sleep it away, or beguile the 
time by all manner of in-door amusement. 
Thus, should it snow, all the inmates of a 
family crowd round the hearth ; a fire is 
made up, or rather heaped up in the drawing- 
room, and the party becomes half-roasted 
(on one side only). Or perhaps, the same 
individuals, feeling sleepy after partaking 
largely of a substantial dinner, fall back 
into an easy chair, and indulge in " 40 
winks " — an atrocious practice truly, even 
for adults. Thus are Nature's laws abused; 
thus is common sense outraged ; and illness 
" invited " into the house. 

The same occurs too frequently, when it 
is a fme, frosty, bracing day. Instead of 
bounding joyously forth, to take advantage 
of the weather, and so create a healthy tone 
in the system — how very many of us are 
there who prefer seeking refuge under the 
protecting influence of a large, well-filled, 
blazing stove ! Let me gently remind such 
unthinking folks of the extreme liability 
they incur of taking cold, when leaving the 
room, and passing to and frq through the 
various currents of air; also let me urge 
upon them the folly of so endeavoring to 
produce a circulation of the blood, the want 
of which is the avant-courier of nearly all 
domestic diseases. Well may our medical 

Vol. I.— New Series. 

men take off their hats with obsequious 
courtesy, to Christmas and the New Year ! 
Happily, most happily, have their "cus- 
tomers'" been christened " Patients ! " 

Whilst however, our aristocracy, our gen- 
try, our good citizens and their respectable 
families, " pity " us who live in the country 
(as they do), viewing us in the light of 
people " doomed " to behold nothing save 
naked trees and leafless hedges, and imagin- 
ing us equally affected as themselves 
by the rigorous season — let us in turn pity 
them, and show the reason why. At the 
same time, let us in fairness confess that if 
we lived where they live, we should do just 
as they do. 

People residing in towns and cities have 
no inducement to early rising. -Were they 
to quit their warm nest even at six or seven 
o'clock in the winter, raise the blind, and 
ask " what of the morning ? " — I fear the 
" answer " would cause them soon to return 
to their rest! All without looks dreary, 
murky, heavy, dull. No sight presents it- 
self, save some poor diminutive, shivering 
lass, fluttering by with water-cresses ; or 
some bed-less wight shuffling along the 
street, to be first in the field to discover the 
elements of a morning's meal. These can 
only be realised by some stray paltry article, 
of by-gone utility being swept out of a trades- 
man's shop ; unless, indeed, he boasts of 
" sympathy" with some tender-hearted cook, 
who may look him up a plate of broken 
victuals. These and the " early (portable) 
coffee-shop " at the corner of the street, are 
all perhaps that arrest the eye of the sleeper 
awakened. With such a prospect, is it a 
matter for wonder that resolution forsakes 
him, and that— 

" A little more sleep, and a little more slumber " 

appear preferable to going down stairs into 
a cold room, in which no fire has been lighted 
by the equally-reluctant-to-rise Abigail — 
and where the remains of an over-night's 
conversazione yet remain but too palpable to 
sight ? Thus much for a city life. Now for 
a glance at our country life. 

At early dawn, even at this season, we 
rise to the voice of chanticleer, and spring 
from our place of rest to examine the pros- 
pect from without, If it be wet and driz- 
zling, we, like the city folk, at once return to 
our bed. But if it be frosty, or' snow is 
seen to fall, then do we rise betimes to view 
the glory of the scene. A splendid sight is 
a frosty morning ! How beautiful are the 
sparkling brilliants, pendant from the twigs 
and the spray ! What fantastical shapes do 
we see in the objects formed by the rime, 
richly reposing on the shrubs, the trees, and 
the evergreens, until resolved intoits elements 

by the rising sun ! And when the day has 
broken, and a gleam of bright light illumines 
the scene — what a picture of loveliness does 
there not lie before us ! 

As for Snow, and its effects on the whole 
face of the country, its brilliant scintillations, 
its romantic embodiment of fairy concep- 
tions, its endless diversity of colors, seen in 
the various rays of light emitted by the sun 
in his feeble but gradually-increasing light 
— of Snow, I could be eloquent for a twelve- 
month. These and similar treats await all 
who reside in the country, and who love 

Now for a word or two about the little 
birds, whom, of course, we shall take hence- 
forward under our special protection. To 
understand the habits of the feathered race, 
you must live in the country, where alone 
they can be studied; and you must rise early 
throughout the entire year, if you would 
minutely observe their movements — for they 
change with the seasons. By adopting this 
plan, you will find that you make some new 
friends and acquaintances daily ; for these 
little creatures are very observant of what 
is going on ; and intimacies out of number 
may be formed amongst them, whilst half 
the world are fast asleep. 

If you enter your garden, or if you ramble 
into any particular field or lane at a certain 
hour every morning, there, rely upon it, you 
will find awaiting you every little friend 
whose attention you may have secured ; and 
in this way you may become in a very short 
time, and in the true sense of the word, a 
" Naturalist." 

It is curious, but, as I have before very 
often remarked, it is true, that birds well 
know by an intuitive feeling who take plea- 
sure in their society, and who do not; so 
that on ourselves depends our success, or 
otherwise, in rendering them tame and fa- 

These topics are very fruitful, and our 
pen will be exercised on them for many 
months, perhaps years to come! 

Let us not forget, amidst our festivities, 
the claims, which our little patient friends 
meantime put forth to a large share of our 
hospitality. The winds are bleak and cutting, 
the frost is keen, and the aspect, from 
without, " wintry" in the extreme. Tis now 
their plaint falls persuasively and pleadingly 
on our ear : — 

" The snow's coming down very fast, 
No shelter is found on the tree; 
When you hear the tempestuous blast, 
I pray you take pity on me ! " 

Let not this little Christmas Carol — savoring 
of love and confidence — be chanted in vain ! 
Then shall our " Christmas log " burn all 
the brighter, OUR joys be the more joyous 
— OUR happiness the more complete ! 


A Naturalist's Sojourn in Jamaica. By Philip 
Henry Gosse, A..L.S. Assisted by Kichard 
Hill, Esq. Longman and Co. 

This is indeed a book on Natural History, 
penned by a man worthy of being called a 
naturalist. He has not purchased an old 
obsolete book or two, and stolen from them 
the errors of by-gone days; but he has put 
before us, in all their freshness, anecdotes 
and descriptions whose perusal is a matter 
of real delight, 

We are much struck with the remarks 
of Mr. Gosse on the study of Natural His- 
tory, He says : " That alone is worthy 
to be called natural history, which investi- 
gates and records the condition of living- 
things, of things in a state of nature ; of 
animals, of living animals ; which tells of 
their sayings and doings, their varied 
notes and utterances, songs, and cries; 
their actions in ease, and under the 
pressure of circumstances ; the affections 
and passions towards their young, towards 
each other, towards other animals, towards 
man ; their various arts and devices to 
protect their progeny, to procure food, to 
escape from their enemies, and defend them- 
selves ; with many other inherent qualities." 
In another place, Mr. Gosse remarks : " If 
we are to have their portraits let us have 
them drawn from the life, while the bright 
eyes are glancing, and the flexible features 
express the emotions of the mind v^itliiii ; 
and while the hues, so often fleeting and 
evanescent, exist in their unchanged reality, 
and the attitudes are full of the elegance 
and grace that free, wild nature, assumes." 

It is really quite refreshing to get one's 
own ideas conveyed in such noble, yet « such 
plain phraseology. Every real lover of 
natural history must lend his hearty " Amen 1 ' 
to all Mr. Gosse has said. Beading is good, 
but observation and research are far better. 

In selecting from a book like this, nothing 
hardly comes amiss; for the author's sojourn 
in Jamaica, some eighteen months, has en- 
abled him to get together a large quantity 
of useful as well as agreeable information. 
Let us first extract the particulars of 

" The Black Snake. — It climbs with facility, 
mounting perpendicularly the smooth trunk of 
a tree, and gliding along the branches, on which 
it loves to lie in the sun. If alarmed, it will 
sometimes move along the branch, but generally 
drops to the ground, lowering its fore parts gra- 
dually, but very quickly, and letting go with 
the tail last of all. The mode in which colu- 
brine snakes (and, perhaps, others) mount trees 
is, I think, misunderstood. We see them repre- 
sented in engravings as circling the trunk or 
branches in spiral coils; but this, though it 
may do well for stuffed specimens in a mu- 
seum, is not the way in which a living snake 

mounts a tree. It simply glides up with 
the whole body extended in a straight line, 
doubtless clinging by means of the expanded 
ribs, as we can see that the body is percep- 
tibly dilated and flattened. In fact, a snake 
finds no more difficulty in passing swiftly 
up the vertical trunk of a tree than in gliding 
over the ground. I have been astonished to 
remark, how slight a contact is sufficient for it to 
maintain its hold. The black snake will allow 
the greatest part of its body to hang down in 
the air, and thus remain still, while little more 
than the tail maintains its position, by clinging 
(straight, not spirally, and not half round it) to 
the upper surface of a branch ; and it will often 
pass freely and gracefully from one branch to 
another at a considerable interval. The motions 
of a snake in a tree are beautifully easy and free, 
and convey the impression that the reptile feels 
quite at home among the branches. 

" This is a bold and fierce snake, often turning 
when struck, and approaching its assailant with 
the head erected in a most menacing attitude ; 
the mouth opened to its widest extent. I have 
seen one thus endeavoring to attack when 
foiled by being struck, and thrown off by a stick, 
at length become quite enraged; the neck being 
dilated to nearly an inch in width, and perfectly 
flattened, so that the white skin could be seen 
within the scales. 

" Tollentemque minas et sibila colla tumenlum. 

Vibg. Georg. iii. 421 . > 

" It is this dilatation of the neck, but in a much 
higher degree, which gives so remarkable an 
appearance to the deadly najas or cobras of 
Africa and India. A black snake, which I had 
tied by the neck with a string while I made a 
sketch of it, struck fiercely at me with gaping 
jaws as far as its cord would allow, every time 
I looked up or down. The Creoles say, that if 
a dog attacks it, it always strikes at his eyes, 
and not unfrequently produces blindness," 

Our eye next falls upon a very graphic 

description of — 

" Moonlight. — There is something exceed- 
ingly romantic in the nights of the tropics. It is 
pleasant to sit on the landing place at the top of 
the flight of steps in front of Bluefields House, 
after night has spread her " purple wings " over 
the sky; or even to lie at full length on the 
smooth stones ; it is a hard bed, but not a cold 
one, for the thick flags, exposed to the burning 
sun during the day, become thoroughly heated, 
and retain a considerable degree of warmth till 
morning nearly comes again. The warmth of the 
flat stones is particularly pleasant, as the cool 
night breezes play over the face. The scene is 
favorable for meditation; the moon "walking 
in brightness," gradually climbing up to the very 
centre of the deep blue sky, sheds on the grassy 
sward — the beasts lying down here and there, 
the fruit trees, the surrounding forest, and the 
glistening sea spread out in front — a soft but bril- 
liant radiance unknown to the duller regions oi' 
the north. The babbling of the little rivulet, 
winning its seaward way over the rocks and 
pebbles, comes like distant music upon the ear 
of which the bass is supplied by the roll of the 



surf falling on the sea-beach at measured inter- 
vals — a low hollow roar, protracted until it dies 
away along the sinuous shore, the memorial of a 
fierce but transitory sea-breeze. But there are 
sweeter sounds than these. The mocking-bird 
takes his seat on the highest twig of the orange 
tree at my feet, and pours forth his rich and so- 
lemn gushes of melody, with such an earnestness 
as if his soul were in his song. A rival from a 
neighboring tree commences a similar strain; 
and now the two birds exert all their powers, 
each striving his utmost to out-sing the other, 
until the silence of the lonely night rings with 
bursts and swells, and tender cadences of me- 
lodious song. Here and there, over the pasture, 
the intermittent green spark of the firefly flits 
along ; and at the edges of the bounding woods, 
scores of twinkling lights are seen, appearing 
and disappearing in the most puzzling manner. 
Three or four bats are silently winging along 
through the air, now passing over the face of the 
vertical moon like tiny black specks, now darting 
through the narrow arch beneath the steps, and 
now flitting so close over head that one is tempted 
to essay their capture with an insect net. The 
light of the moon, however, though clearly re- 
vealing their course, is not powerful or precise 
enough for this, and the little nimble leather 
wings pursue their giddy play in security." 

We must take our leave for the present, 
by bringing under our readers' notice, the 
account of — 

" The Venus Lizard. — One day in February, 
having ascended the ridge with a companion, 
my attention was arrested by a lizard about a 
foot long, and of a lively green color, on the trunk 
of a small tree, head downward, intently watch- 
ing our motions as we stood near. My young 
friend suggested the possibility of capturing it by 
slipping a noose over its head, while its attention 
was engaged by whistling. I laughingly pro- 
ceeded to try the spell; and having made a noose 
of small twine, which I tied to the end of a switch, 
I gently walked towards him whistling a lively 
tune. To my astonishment, he allowed me to 
slip the noose over his head, merely glancing his 
bright eye at the string as it passed. I jerked 
the switch; the music ceased; and the green- 
coated forester was sprawling in the air, dangling 
greatly to his annoyance at the end of my string. 
He was very savage, biting at everything near ; 
presently his color began to change from green 
to blackish, till it was of an uniform blueish black, 
with darker bands on the body, and a brownish 
black on the tail ; the only trace of green was 
just around the eyes. I carefully secured, with- 
out injuring him, and brought him home in the 
collecting basket ; into which I had no sooner 
put him, than he fiercely seized a piece of linen 
in his teeth, and would not let it go for several 
hours. I transferred him to a wired cage, linen 
and all; and at length he suddenly let go his 
hold, and flew wildly about the cage, biting at 
anything presented to him. At night, I ob- 
served him vividly green as at first; a token, as I 
presumed, that he had in some measure recovered 
his equanimity. The next day he continued 
very fierce. I hung the cage out in the sun. 
Two or three times in the course of the day, I 

observed him green; but for the most part he 
was black. The changes were quickly accom- 
plished. After he had been in my possession 
about four days, I observed him one morning 
sloughing his skin; the delicate epidermis, 
loosened from the body and legs, looked like a 
garment of thin white muslin, split irregularly 
down the legs and toes, and separated from that 
of the tail, on which the integument yet adhered 
unbroken. Throughout the day, the loosened 
skin hung about the animal, though more and 
more loosely. He had not abated a whit of his 
fierceness ; leaping at a stick pointed at him, and 
seizing it forcibly with his teeth. 

" Another individual, caught in the same lo- 
cality and by the same device, I introduced into 
the cage of the former, who did not offer any 
molestation to the intruder. After they had re- 
mained in my possession, the one about six 
weeks, and the other about four, they both died, 
almost on the same day, and both in the process 
of sloughing. In this operation, the skin appears 
to be first separated from the head ; for in one of 
these it was perfectly loose from the whole head, 
and was removable in one piece, but to the neck 
and entire body it still adhered by organic union. 
I suspect that the sloughing of the skin is, at 
least sometimes, the result of universal excitement. 
All that I have taken alive and caged (amount- 
ing to many individuals), after most violent be- 
havior at first, soon sloughed ; usually the very 
next day." 

Favorite Song Birds; interspersed with Choice 
Passages from the Poets. — Edited by H. G. 
Adams. 12mo. W. S. Orr and Co. 

It appears to have been so ruled by the 
Fates, that on ourselves should devolve the 
necessity, perhaps the misfortune, of writing 
"Popular Treatises on the Treatment of Birds 
in Confinement.''' 1 The author of this book 
was born under a happier planet; and seems 
to sing of the feathered tribes who roam 
the fields at large, as if he were one of 
themselves, and understood their language. 

We can fancy Mr. Adams — and we should 
like well to be in his company — ranging the 
fields, and the lanes, the woods, and the 
forests ; and picture his delight as the 
lark rises on the wing, and carols its 
early praise for the safe repose of the night. 

Every page of this book on " Song Birds" 
is richly illustrated by apposite quotations 
from the Poets ; Poets with whose fancies 
and inspirations Mr. Adams is identified in 
the highest degree. We should imagine 
that he must have ransacked all the trea- 
sures of a well-stored library, to have ac- 
quired so much avicular lore. 

Having done him justice as a "poet," 
we must prove the truth of our remarks ; 
which we cannot do better than by letting 
some of his well-selected passages nestle in 
our pages. They will be recognised as 
literary gems, and extend the taste for the 
" sublime and beautiful." 

Let us, just with a view to anticipate 
what we shall «ZZ hear in a few short months, 
quote the harmonious strains of Clare, that 
lovely poet, on — 

The Nightingale. 

"Up this green woodland path we'll softly rove, 
And list the Nightingale; she dwelleth here. 
Hush ! let the wood -gate gently close, for fear 
Its noise might scare her from her home of love. 
Here I have heard her sing for many a year, 
At noon and eve, ay, all the livelong day, 
As though she lived on song. — In this same spot, 
Just where the old-man's-beard all widely trails 
Its tresses o'er the track and stops the way, — 
And where that child the fox-glove flowers hath 

Laughing and creeping through the moss-grown 

rails, — 
Oft have I hunted, like a truant hoy, 
Creeping through thorny brakes with eager joy, 
To find her nest, and see her feed her young: 
And where those crimpled ferns grow rank 

The hazel boughs, I've nestled down full oft, 
To watch her warbling on some spray aloft, 
With wings all quivering in her ecstasy, 
And feathers rvffiing up in transport high, 
And bill wide open — to relieve her heart 
Of its out-sobbing song ! — But with a start, 
If I but stirred a branch, she stopped at once, 
And, flying off swift as the eye can glance, 
In leafy distance hid, to sing again. 
Anon , from bosom of that green retreat, 
Her song anew in silvery stream would gush, 
With jug-jug-jug and quavered trilling sweet; 
Till, roused to emulate the enchanting strain, 
From hawthorn spray piped loud the merry 

Her wild bravura through the woodlands wide." 

Mr. Adams shall now be quoted as a 
poet, on — 

The Sky-Lark. 

The Blackbird. 

" Metliinks, methinks, a happy life is thine, 

Bird of the jetty wing and golden bill ! 
Up in the clear fresh morning's dewy shine 
Art thou, and singing at thine own sweet 

will : 
Thy mellow voice floats over vale and hill, 
Rich and mellifluous to the ear as wine 

Unto the taste; at noon we hear thee still; 
And when grey shadows tell of Sol's decline ; 
Thou hast thy matin and thy vesper song, 

Thou hast thy noontide canticle of praise, 
For Him who fashioned thee to dwell among 
The orchard-grounds, and 'mid the pleasant 
Where blooming hedge-rows screen the rustic 

throng : 
Thy life's a ceaseless prayer, thy days all sab- 
bath days." 

Now for " our own" pet, immortalised in 
these pages by Wordsworth : — 

"Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! 
Dost thou despise the earth, when cares 
abound ? 
Or, while thy wings aspire, are heart and eye 

Both with thy nest, upon the dewy ground ? — 
Thy nest, which thou canst drop into at will, 
Those quivering wings composed, that music 

To the last point of vision, and beyond, 

Mount, daring warbler! That love- prompted 

('Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond) 
Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain! 

Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege, to sing 

All independent of the leafy spring. 

Leave to the nightingale the shady wood — 
A privacy of glorious light is thine, 

When thou dost pour upon the world a flood 
Of harmony with rapture more divine. 

Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam, 

True to the kindred points of heaven and home ! " 

Before laying aside this elegant tome, 
shining in its cloth of gold — we must remark 
that, although it is not adapted for the use 
of those who keep birds, yet it is an essen- 
tial " Companion" for all who love birds. 
Its circulation, therefore, ought to be uni- 

Mr. Adams has himself contributed largely 
to the poetical imagery of the volume, and 
he has superintended the getting up of some 
beautiful illustrative colored engravings of 
birds, designed by Edward Gilks. There 
are no fewer than twelve of them. 

Scinde; or the Unhappy Valley, By Lieut. 
It. F. Burton, Bombay Army. Two Vols. 
Mr. Burton has before committed author- 
ship ; his former attempt being Goa and the 
Blue Mountains. This was a failure. The 
present performance is more creditable, and 
his field of inquiry wider and more generally 
interesting. If we say, sub rosd, that the 
worthy Lieutenant throws the hatchet with 
admirable dexterity, we shall speak but the 
truth. We name this lest, by quoting the 
following animated sketch, we might be 
held answ r erable for its authenticity. We 
had rather not ! 

" Hunting an Alligator. — In the dark re- 
cess, formed by a small bridge built over the 
narrow brick channel which supplies the swamp, 
and concealed from eyes profane by the warm, 
blueish, sulphureous stream, lurks the grisly 
monarch of the place. An unhappy kid is 
slaughtered with the usual religious formula, and 
its life-blood is allowed to flow as a libation into 
the depths below. A gurgling and a bubbling of 
the waters forewarn us that their tenant has 
acknowledged the compliment, and presently a 
huge snout and slimy crimson case, fringed 
with portentous fangs, protrude from the yawn- 
ing surface. 



" ' W ah ! wall ! —hooray ! hooray ! ! ' shouts 
the surrounding crowd, intensely excited, when 
Mr. Peacock, after being aroused into full activity, 
(as his fierce, flashing little eyes and uneasy 
movements denote,) by a succession of vigorous 
pokes and pushes with a bamboo pole, conde- 
scends to snap at and swallow the hind quarter 
of a young goat — temptingly held within an inch 
of his nose. 

" Now there will be something to laugh at. Out 
of the neighboring tent sallies a small but 
select body of subalterns, in strange hats and 
stranger coats. They are surrounded by a pack 
of rakish-looking bull terriers, yelping and danc- 
ing their joy at escaping from the thraldom of 
the kuttewala. There is a gun, too, in the party. 
They seem just now at a loss what to do. They 
wander listlessly among the date trees, wink at 
the ladies, ' chaff ' the old fakir a little, offer up 
the usual goat, and playfully endeavor to ram 
the bamboo pole down Mr. Peacock's throat. 
The showman remonstrates, and they inform him, 
in a corrupt dialect of 'the Moors/ that he is an 
' old muff.' A barking and a hoarse roaring from 
below attract their attention; they hurry down 
towards the swamp, and find their dogs occu- 
pied in disturbing the repose of its possessors. 
'At him, Tim! go it, Pincher! five to one in 
gold mohurs that Snap doesn't funk the fellow, 
hist 'st 'st , Snap S ' 

" Snap's owner is right; but the wretched little 
quadruped happens to come within the sweep 
of a juvenile alligator's tail, which with one lash 
sends him flying through the air into the ' middle 
of next week.' Bang ! bang ! And two ounces 
of shot salute Snap's murderer's eyes and ears. 
Tickled by the salutation, the little monster, 
with a curious attempt at agility, plunges into 
his native bog, grunting as if he had a grievance. 

" Again the old fakir, issuing from his sanc- 
tum, — that white dome on the rock which towers 
above the straggling grove, — finds fault with 
the nature of the proceedings. This time, how- 
ever, he receives a rupee and a bottle of cognac, 
— the respectable senior would throttle his father, 
or sell his mother for a little more. So he 
retires in high glee, warning his generous friends 
that the beasts are very furious and addicted to 

" When ' larking ' does commence, somehow 
or other it is very difficult to cut its career short. 
No sooner does the keeper of the lines disappear, 
than the truth of his caution is canvassed and 
generally doubted. The chief of the sceptics, a 
beardless boy about seventeen, short, thin, and 
cock -nosed, — infact, the very model of a guards- 
man, — proposes to demonstrate by experiment 
'what confounded nonsense the chap was talk- 
ing.' A ' draw it mild old fellow,' fixes his 

" The ensign turns round to take a run at the 
bog, looks to see that his shoes are tightly tied, 
and charges the right place gallantly; now plant- 
ing his foot upon one of the little tufts of rank 
grass which protrude from the muddy water, 
now lighting on an alligator's back, now sticking 
for a moment in the black mire, now hopping 
dexterously off a sesquipedalian snout. He 
reaches the other side with a whole skin, although 
his pantaloons have suffered a little from a 

vicious bite: narrow escapes, as one may imagine, 
he has had ; but pale ale and plentiful pluck are 
powerful preservers. 

"A crowd assembles about the spot; the ex- 
ultation of success seems to turn the young 
gentleman's head . He proposes an alligator ride, 
is again laughed to scorn, and again runs off, 
with mind made up, to the tent. A moment 
afterwards he reappears, carrying a huge steel 
fork and a sharp hook, strong and sharp, with the 
body of a fowl quivering on one end, and a stout 
cord attached to the other. He lashes his line 
carefully round one end of the palm trees, and 
commences plying the water for a mugur. A 
brute nearly twenty feet long, a real Saurian 
every inch of him, takes the bait, and finds him- 
self in a predicament ; he must either disgorge a 
savory morsel, or remain a prisoner ; and for a 
moment or two he makes the ignoble choice. 
He pulls, however, like a thorough-bred bull- dog, 
shakes his head as if he wished to shed it, and 
lashes his tail with the energy of a shark who is 
being beaten to death with capstan bars. 

"In a moment, the rider is seated, like an 
elephant driver, upon the thick neck of the reptile, 
who not being accustomed to carry such weight, 
at once sacrifices his fowl; and running off with 
his rider, makes for the morass. On the way, 
at times, he slackens his zigzag, wriggling course, 
and attempts a bite, but the prongs of the steel 
fork, Avell rammed into the soft part of his neck, 
muzzle him effectually enough. And just as the 
steed is plunging into his own element, the 
jockey springs actively up, leaps on one side, 
avoids a terrific lash from the serrated tail, and 
again escapes better than he deserves." 

These little anecdotes certainly are amus- 
ing ; but as records of " facts " in Natural 
History they should be assigned " a separate 
ward." Our duty compels us to notice all 
works brought under our eye ; hence the 
above illustration of one of the gallant Lieu- 
tenant's Flights of Fancy. 

Something New from the Story Garden. 
18mo. Groombridge & Sons. 

We imagine there is scarcely a respectable 
family in the kingdom, in which that lovely 
little work, the Story without an End, is not 
to be found. Its pure diction, extreme 
simplicity, and witching garb, have pro- 
cured it entrance wherever there are children 
to be taught and to be pleased. Side by 
side with that little book should be placed — 
this Story Garden. It is no servile copy, 
but an elegant offering of friendship from 
one member of a family to her two sisters. 
In style and object it resembles the story of 
Miss Austen, and is equally attractive in 
every respect. Nor are the illustrations one 
whit less beautiful. They are perfect bijoux 
of art, • and reflect honor on the designer, the 
engraver, and the proprietor, — all of whom 
seem to have vied with each other to pro- 
duce a literary gem. In what a beautiful 



garment, too, is this little tome clad ! Gold 
without, and gold within, we pronounce it, at 
this season more particularly, to be one of 
the most acceptable presents that could be 
conferred on youth; nor ought we to exclude 
from our unqualified approval the handi- 
work of the printer, whose labor in produc- 
ing such sharp and effective impressions of 
the embellishments (on wood) must have 
been indeed erreat. 

Junius and his Works Compared with the 
Character and Writings of Philip Dor- 
mer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield. By 
William Cramp. 8vo. 

Fac-Simile Autograph Letters of Junius, 
Lord Chesterfield, and Mrs. Dayrolles. 
By the same Author. 8vo. Hope & 

Mr. Cramp, with much energy of purpose, 
has labored to prove that Mrs. Dayrolles 
was the amanuensis employed to copy the 
MSS. of Junius' letters for the printer ; and 
he has produced parallels both from Ches- 
terfield and Junius, that lead to the belief 
that the former and the latter were identical. 
The two books are full of curious matter ; 
and we recomniend a very careful perusal of 
them. The subject yet possesses sufficient 
interest to command attention, and when it 
is considered how intimate Lord Chesterfield 
was with Mr. Dayrolles, we think Mr. 
Cramp has probability on his side 


We shall have many original anecdotes to 
relate of the Dog ; meantime, we select from 
Thompson's " Passions of Animals," recently 
published, some few particulars that may 
prove interesting to the admirers of this faith- 
ful Domestic Companion : — 

" The race of turnspits is almost extinct, as 
their services have been superseded by machinery, 
but in some places this has not been of long date. 
These dogs knew the roasting day most dis- 
tinctly. At the Jesuits' College at Fleche, the 
cook took one of these dogs out of its turn to 
put it into the wheel of the spit; but the animal, 
giving him a severe bite, ran away, and drove in 
from the yard the dog whose turn it really was. 
Arago describes something similar : he saw 
several dogs at an inn, whose duty it was to turn 
the spit in regular rotation, one of which skulked 
away, and obstinately refused "to work because 
its turn had not come round, but went willingly 
enough into the wheel after its comrade had 
turned for a few minutes. A dog, which was 
in the habit of accompanying his master from 
Paris to Charenton, where he spent the Sunday 
with a friend, having been locked up on two 
successive occasions, ran off alone to Charenton 
on the Saturday evening, and waited there for 
its master. A gentleman writing from Edinburgh, 

and speaking of the; Scotch shepherd's dog, de- 
scribes it as one of the most intelligent of the 
canine family, as a constant attendant on his 
master, and never leaving him except in the per- 
formance of his duty. In some districts of Scot- 
land, these animals always accompany them to 
church; some of them are even more regular 
attendants than their masters, for, by an extra- 
ordinary computation of time, they never fail 
resorting thither, unless employed in attending 
their charge. To a stranger, their appearance is 
somewhat remarkable in such a spot, and the 
propriety with which they conduct themselves 
during the service is remarkably singular. On 
one occasion, towards the close, one of the dogs 
showed an anxiety to get away, when his mas- 
ter, for this unmannerly conduct, very uncere- 
moniously gave him a kick, which caused him 
to howl, and break the peace of the assembly ; 
and, to add to his distress, some of his fellow 
dogs attacked him, which dogs are wont to do 
Avhen they hear one of their species howl. The 
quarrel became so alarming that the precentor 
was forced to leave his seat, and use his authority 
in restoring peace, which was done by means of 
a few kicks. All the time of this disturbance 
the minister seemed very little discomfited, con- 
tinuing his preaching without intermission, which 
showed that such occurrences were not rare. In 
one parish, great complaints were made against 
the disturbances occasioned during divine service 
by the quarrelling or otherwise unmannerly con- 
duct of the dogs, w r hen it was agreed that all 
those who had dogs should confine them, and 
not allow them to come to church. This did 
very well for the first Sunday or so ; but the dogs 
not at all relishing to be locked up on a day 
when they were wont to enjoy themselves, were 
never to be found on the Sunday mornings, to be 
tied up : they by some instinct knew the Sunday 
as well as their masters, and set off before them, 
whither they had been in the habit of going on 
that day. It was now evident to the members 
of the congregatioa-that this plan would not do, 
and another scheme was laid before them, which 
was to erect a house close to the church, in which 
they might be confined during divine service. 
This was adopted, and the kennel was accord- 
ingly built, in which the dogs were imprisoned ; 
but the animals being more accustomed to freedom 
than confinement, took this restraint upon their 
liberty in ill-part, and set up a most dreadful howl- 
ing, to the great annoyance of the people in the 
church. They however persevered in confining 
them for a considerable time, thinking the ani- 
mals would get accustomed to their incarceration; 
but in this they were mistaken, for instead of the 
howling diminishing, it got worse and worse. 
So it was agreed they should again be set at 
liberty, and have freedom of access to the place 
of public worship; hut their manners had been so 
corrupted, that they were with difficulty brought 
even to their former discipline." 

We have a proof in this last anecdote, how 
necessary it is to teach even dogs good 
manners ; and how difficult it is to wn-teach 
what they have acquired in the way of bad 
manners. Just so is it with the human race . 
By the by this book, though interesting, 



might have been rendered more " valuable" 
by weeding out apocryphal matters, and 
sticking closer to " facts." 

An Original Anecdote of the Dog. — Of the 
dog we can all be eloquent ; and I could relate 
"true anecdotes" of some of my canine favorites 
that would hardly be credited. Still, with all my 
success in teaching dogs to do marvellous things, 
I never could teach them that when they jumped up 
with dirty feet, there was an injury done to my 
clothes. When they obeyed the command of 
" Down, sir !" sometimes enforced by a gentle 
coup de main, they never could reason about the 
"why and because." Nor have I ever yet met 
with any dog, or ever heard of any dog, that 
couldhQ " argued with" on these moral proprieties 
and observances. Talking of the memory of 
dogs — one of mine, " Dash" by name, was once 
stolen from me. After being absent thirteen 
months, he one day entered my office in town, 
with a long string tied round his neck. He had 
broken away from the fellow who held him pri- 
soner^ Our meeting may be imagined. I disco- 
vered the thief ; had him apprehended; and took 
him before a magistrate. He swore the dog was 
his, and called witnesses to bear him out. "Mr. 
Kidcl," said Mr. Twyford — I see him now — ad- 
dressing me, "Can you give us any satisfactory 
proof of this dog being your property ?" Placing 
my mouth to the dog's ear — first giving him a 
knowing look — and whispering a little masonic 
communication, known to us tw T o only, " Dash " 
immediately reared up on his hind legs, and went 
through a series of gymnastic manoeuvres with a 
stick, guided meanwhile by my eye, which set 
the whole court in a roar. My evidence needed 
no further corroboration ; the thief stood com- 
mitted ; " Dash " was liberated ; and amidst the 
cheers of the multitude we bounded merrily 
homewards. The reunion among my "household 
gods" may be imagined. It would be farcical to 
relate it ; nor must I dwell upon certain other 
rare excellencies of this same dog; with whom, 
and his equally sagacious better half, " Fanny," 
I passed many years of happy intimacy. — Kidd's 
Essays on Instinct and Reason (in the Gardeners' 

Fancy.— Fancy turns her sister's wizard 
instruments into toys. She takes a tele- 
scope in her hand and puts a mimic star on 
her forehead, and sallies forth as an emblem 
of astronomy. Her tendency is to the child- 
like and sportive. She chases butterflies, 
while her sister takes flight with angels. 
She is the genius of fairies, of gallantries, of 
fashions ; of whatever is quaint and light, 
showy and capricious ; of the poetical part 
of wit. She adds wings and feelings to the 
images of wit ; and delights as much to 
people nature with smiling ideal sympathies, 
as wit does to bring antipathies together, 
and make them strike light on absurdity. 

Wisdom.— Wisdom is the talent of buying 
virtuous pleasures at the cheapest rate.— 
1/ieldina. \ 


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endeavor to serve our interests. All the neAvsvendors 
in Dublin will keep our London Journal on sale. 

J. P.— The " principles " you so approve, will ever he 
advocated by us. You may therefore safely circulate 
our Paper in your own, and your friends' family 
circle. We shall write, with a view to benefit all man- 

New Subscribers, and Casual Reapers, are referred to 
the Leading Article in our First Number for the 


we shall rigidly adhere. 
Private Letters.— Of these we daily receive such 
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writers to excuse our not replying to them. Our time 
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instance, however, will their names be published with- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others. — It having been 
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this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
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To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
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simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 

Saturday, January 10, 1852. 

Our first number — the '■pons asinorwri' 
with us — has appeared ; and we rejoice to 
say that it is very rapidly ^appearing. 
We augur from this, that w r e have some 
friends — somewhere. "Friends," now-a-days, 
are " rarities." We, then, are ' Fortune's 
favorite ! ' 

We are right glad to have got rid of our 
first issue, because the egotism necessarily 
inseparable from an " opening day " need's 
no longer to be resorted to. We have stated 
our plan, defined our object, and launched 
our vessel. It now rests with the public to 
take us up, if, like Abdiel, we be found 
" faithful," — or to reject us, if unworthy of 
their regard. Nous verrons. 

We wish to make only one or two 
other passing observations. From our hav- 
ing been much in public company of late, 
we have had excellent opportunities for 
warily "feeling the public pulse." We 
have asked, incidentally, certain questions 
about the 'cheap periodicals,' and gathered 
from the general remarks that which Ave 
wanted to know, 

Some journals were voted " tame ; " some 
"heavy;" some "badly arranged;" and 
most of them, from the interminable ' con- 
tinuations ' of the articles admitted, as " ill- 
suited for the general reader." 



When people are reminded by an inward 
monitor that it is time to recruit the body 
(having sometimes to wait a long time be- 
fore their wants can be supplied) — it is 
then they require something to beguile the 
awful interregnum between the order given, 
and the order executed. What can be 
better, under such ' disastrous circum- 
stances,' than to have recourse to something 
smart, something striking, something pithy, 
something pleasingly-instructive? The 
vacuum, the aching void, should be tilled 
up in some such way — to satisfy Nature's 
requirements. " Nature abhors a vacuum," 
as Ave all know. 

We quickly learnt that this was THE desi- 
deratum. Had it been a mere matter of 
opinion with some few only, Ave should 
have paused ; but we are quite convinced 
that the general mind leans towards our 

Having therefore satisfactorily ascer- 
tained what is "good 11 for the public 
health, and how to keep their pulse " evenly" 
beating — Ave shall endeavor, all that in us 
lies, to establish ourselves as a Literary Phy- 
sician in all parts of her Majesty's do- 
minions ; and so vary the matter Ave intro- 
duce, as by all means to please some, 
instruct others, and secure all (?) 


Instinctive Habits of Geese. — I have noticed 
with pleasure your Essays upon " Instinct," &c, 
in various birds, animals, and so forth ; and as 
I quite agree with you, and consider your argu- 
ments conclusive (although I have never given 
the subject half the attention which it is evident 
that you have done), I beg to hand you the 
following communication, tending to throw a 
little more Aveight into your side of the scalp : — 
A day or tAvo ago, I was passing through Leaden- 
hall market, and observed several large hampers, 
called in the trade (I believe) "flats," freighted 
Avith live geese. They were in the process of 
being opened, having come from a distance — 
probably from Ostend ; and from long and close 
confinement, evidently were much cramped 
through being in one position for a long time. I 
Avas much struck at seeing each goose (I saw 
perhaps 100 or more of them), directly it Avas 
liberated, stretch out its neck at an angle of 
about 35 degrees, then make a hissing noise, and 
finally, flap its Avings. The uniform manner in 
Avhich this was done was very remarkable. I 
asked myself the question : Are these possessed 
of reason ? if so, they would not all of them do this 
thing in precisely the same manner. If any should 
doubt this, I would refer them to the stations of 
some of our large railways, on the arrival of some 
of the heavy trains from the country. Hero 
many of the genus " Homo" possessed of 
'•reason," show by their different movements, 
that they exercise that reason as they think best, 
and not all in the same manner. — N. B. 

A Dog's Attachment for a Kitten; a Remarkable 
Fact Your paper holds out such direct encour- 
agement for people who have any curious facts to 
relate, to relate them, that I feel a pleasure in send- 
ing you the annexed particulars. The dog and cat 
are both living, and I should indeed be happy 
to show them to any of your renders Avhose faith 
in my narrative may be " weak." A few months 
since, a favorite cat of mine had three kittens. 
Deeming one sufficient for preservation, the other 
two Avere drowned. When the kitten Avas about 
three days old, my terrier, christened by my 
little girl, " Rover " (although of the female sex), 
paid marked attention to it. First, she Avent up 
and smelt the basket, as dogs will do, to recon- 
noitre; then she jumped into the basket, side by 
side with the cat, and ''nestled down" Avith the 
mother and child very cosily. The strangeness 
of this proceeding on the part of Mistress "Rover," 
who, let me remark, had not given birth to any 
children of her own since 18 months previously, 
induced me to let her remain some little time to 
see Avhere all would end. The cat, however, not 
quite approving of this intervention in her 
domestic affairs, and evidently becoming un- 
happy, the dog Avas removed. At night, 
after my household had retired to rest, an 
incessant barking from poor " Rover, 1 ' told us of 
the anguish she endured at the separation. The 
barking Avas kept up till the folloAviug morning. 
Much to our surprise, Ave found, on coming 
doAvn stairs (the door having been opened by 
the servant), that "Rover" had again installed 
herself guardian of the basket; and, on this occa- 
sion, she expelled the mother, barking furiously at 
her to keep her aAvay, which she did all that day. 
At night, when preparing to retire, we debated 
Avhat should be done in the matter. Humanity 
settled the question. Mistress " Rover " was 
ejected forcibly, barking furiously the while ; and 
the cat was restored to her kitten. At night, 
the same occurrence again took place ; and 
next day Ave Avere obliged to drive the dog away, 
to prevent the kitten being starved for Avant of 
its natural nutriment. The most remarkable part 
of this communication yet remains to be told. 
The affinity beween " Rover " and the kitten 
was such, that at last the latter had positively 
produced in the former a supply of milk, which it 
preferred to that of its own parent ! Under these 
circumstances, Ave interfered no more, and the 
dog and kitten Avere inseparable. If the mother 
put in a claim for "a right" to join in a game 
at play, a quarrel was the inevitable conse- 
quence. To be brief, I thought it better to part 
Aviththe kitten, Avhich I have done. I may truly 
say I have inflicted more pain on the wet-nurse 
by this decision, than on the mother! — T. B. 

The Ostrich.— -In your last Aveek's paper you 
referred to some remarks you had made soine- 
Avhere, about the ostrich. I have just read them. 
You have termed the bird, I see, unnatural; and 
insinuated that it tb lays its eggs in the sand, and 
there leaves them to be hatched by the sun." As 
you court information, I forward you a paragraph 
wh ich I have copied from A Hunter 's Life in 
South Africa. In it you Avill see a nest is made, 
and that it is large enough to hold a man! The 
following is taken from the book to which I have 



referred: — "A favorite method adopted by the 
wild bushmen for approaching the ostrich and 
other varieties of game, is to clothe himself in 
the skin of one of these birds, in which, taking 
care of the wind, he stalks about the plain, cun- 
ningly imitating the gait and motions of the 
ostrich until within range, when, with a well- 
directed poisoned arrow from his tiny bow, he 
can generally seal the fate of any of the ordinary 
varieties of game. These insignificant looking 
arrows are about two feet six inches in length ; 
they consist of a slender reed, with a sharp bone 
head, thoroughly poisoned with a composition, 
of which the principal ingredients are obtained 
sometimes from a succulent herb, having thick 
leaves, yielding a poisonous milky juice, and 
sometimes from the jaws of snakes. The bow 
rarely exceeds three feet in length; its string is 
of twisted sinews. When a bushman finds an 
ostrich's nest, he ensconces himself in it, and there 
awaits the return of the old birds, by which means 
he generally secures the pair. It is by means of 
these little arrows that the majority of the fine 
plumes are obtained which grace the heads of 
the fair throughout the civilised world. — J. B., 

[We thank our observant Correspondent, and 
yet thirst for more particulars.] 

Australian Parroquet. — I have a much valued 
" pet," who is just now very sick and very 
ailing. During the last week more particularly, 
she has suffered much from a tumour which has 
formed under the wing, the use of which is lost. 
The tumour is very large, and must have been 
forming for some considerable period. It is only 
recently, however, that we have discovered it. As 
this bird is an especial favorite with the family, 
can you, or any of your readers, kindly propose 
a mode of cure? — F. A. 

[This is a class of birds with which we are not 
conversant; we therefore crave assistance from 
those whose knowledge exceeds our own.] 

Proper Food for Soft Billed Birds, — the Dif- 
ficulty of Keeping them in Vigorous Health during 
the Winter Months entirely Removed. — As we 
have unquestionably some of the sweetest song- 
sters, nay, that "Prince of Melody," the 
Nightingale, among the soft billed warblers, how 
strange is it that so few persons, comparatively 
speaking,, can keep them in health, indeed, can 
keep them at all ! It cannot be that their gentle 
pleasing manners are less fascinating, or their 
gratitude one whit less than those of their more 
generally-kept gramenivorous brethren. To what 
then shall we attribute it? It is attributable solely 
to the want of good food — a natural food, agree- 
able to their habits and tastes, and adapted to 
their nourishment ; a food which will preserve 
the life and vigor of their constitutions, without 
which you will have no song (remember, " no 
supper, no song "), neither can they live long. 
That this really is a fact, may at first excite great 
surprise, seeing that we have "Dr. B.'s celebrated 
German paste," and many other elaborate 
mixtures, expressly intended for their use. True; 
but are ihcyfit for the purpose? I say, "no." 
Our little friends need no " domestic cookery '." 
What they require is a simple, unmixed, natural 

food, having analogous reference to good, ripe 
seed, for their harder-billed brotherhood; and not 
a stale, musty compound, whose very essence is 
dyspepsia concentrated. This is the panacea, 
and how shall we make up for the want? 
Simply by going to Nature herself for her child- 
ren's food, and by looking amongst the insect 
world for the supply of the insectivorous family, 
just as we should do with seeds, for our other 
favorites. Taking this position, and having had 
some little experience, I have adopted a sure 
method of obtaining a constant supply of this 
great essential, during the " winter of the birds' 
discontent;" even when snow is on the ground ; 
and that too in a perfectly fresh, unaltered state 
— -aye, in a living state. This food, I would re- 
mark, can be as conveniently kept in a good 
condition by a natural law, as good seed; and 
what is more to the purpose, it can be obtained 
at a most economical rate. I enclose you in 
confidence, a full description of the food, how ob- 
tained ; together with drawings of the small ap- 
paratus required. After a due inspection, I think 
you will agree with me, that it is a most desirable 
object attained towards enabling us to keep the 
soft-billed as easily^as the hard-billed. I may add 
that with this food, they will breed as freely in con- 
finement as other birds. In offering this to the 
notice of fanciers, let me remark that it will en- 
tirely supersede all those indescribable messes, 
called " German paste," &c. Let these be pre- 
pared with all due care and skill, yet are they, 
so to speak, totally deficient in true nourishment ; 
although, use being second nature, birds eat 
them because they have nothing else to eat I The 
apparatus I have constructed is very simple; 
cleanly in its use, and of trifling cost. Moreover, 
under my direction, it can be easily made by any 
carpenter or amateur. — Walter. 

[As this appears an interesting discovery for 
the lovers of nightingales, &c., we "will take 
charge of any private communications, if left at 
the office of our publisher.] 

The Wren, The Hedge-Sparrow, and the 

The song of these three well-known warblers 
may be termed perennial. Formerly it was very 
rare for me to hear the notes of the second, 
whilst the storms of winter raged through this 
little valley. But now, it is otherwise ; for the 
yew shrubs, which have grown up into a spacious 
cover, seem to be more congenial to the habits of 
the hedge-sparrow than any other evergreen; and 
it ma}' be seen perched near the top of these, 
and warbling there, from time to time, in every 
month of the year. 

As I am not yet a convert to the necessity or 
advantage of giving to many of our British birds 
the new and jaw-breaking names which appear 
on the page of modern ornithology, I will con- 
tent myself with the old nomenclature, so well- 
known to every village lad throughout the land. 

There is a problem to be solved in the economy 
of these three soft-billed little birds, before we 
can safely come to the conclusion that severity 
of climate, and want of food, are the real causes 
why our summer birds of passage leave us shortly 
after the sun has gone down into the southern 

hemisphere. Like them, the wren, the hedge- 
sparrow, and the robin, are insectivorous, and 
they differ not in the texture of their plumage; 
still, they do not accompany their departing' con- 
geners, but prefer to remain in this cold and 
stormy quarter of the world, throughout the 
whole of the year. They may certainly suffer 
more or less, during the chilling period of frost 
and snow; nevertheless, their breed is always 
kept up; and we find, on the return of spring, 
that they have not suffered more than others 
which are apparently better suited to brave the 
rigor of an English winter than they are. 

There is yet another point which wants set- 
tling in the habits of these birds. I allude to 
their song. When we are informed that incuba- 
tion is the main inducement to melody in the feathered 
tribe, we have only to step out after sunrise into 
the surrounding evergreens, and there we are 
sure to hear either the wren, the hedge-sparrow, 
or the robin, in fine song, although not a single 
twig has been laid, or a piece of moss produced 
in furtherance of a nest, wherein to raise their 
future young! Certainly, in this case, neither 
love nor warmth could have had any hand in 
tuning the winter lyre of these little sons of 
Orpheus ! 

The wren is at once distinguished in appearance 
from our smaller British songsters by the erect 
position of its tail. Its restlessness, too, renders 
it particularly conspicuous ; for, when we look at 
it, we find it so perpetually on the move, that I 
cannot recollect to have observed this diminutive 
rover at rest on a branch for three minutes in 
continuation. Its habits are solitary to the fullest 
extent of the word; and it seems to bear hard 
weather better than either the hedge-sparrow or 
the robin ; for whilst these two birds approach 
our habitations in quest of food and shelter, Avith 
their plumage raised as indicative of cold, the 
wren may be seen in ordinary pursuit, amid ici- 
cles which hang from the bare roots of shrubs 
and trees, on the banks of the neighboring rivu- 
lets ; and amongst these roots, it is particularly 
fond of building its oval nest. 

The ancients called the wren, Troglodytes * but 
it is now honored with the high-sounding name 
of Anorthura; alleging for a reason, that the 
ancients were quite mistaken in their supposition 
that this bird was an inhabitant of caves, as it is 
never to be seen within them. Methinks that 
the ancients were quite right, and that our mo- 
dern masters in ornithology are quite wrong. If 
we only for a moment reflect, that the nest of the 
wren is spherical, and is of itself, as it were, a 
little cave, we can easily imagine that the an- 
cients, on seeing the bird going in and out of this 
artificial cave, considered the word Troglodytes 
an appropriate appellation. 

The habits of the hedge-sparrow are not 
quite so solitary as those of the wren. It will 
approach the window in cold weather, and there 
pick up a scanty meal with the robin, the chaf- 
finch, and the house-sparrow. Still, we very 
rarely see three hedge-sparrows in company. 
As these birds inhabit low shrubs and the bottoms 
of hawthorn fences, and are ever on the stir amid 
old pieces of wood and lumber, put apart for the 
use of the farm-yard, we cannot be surprised that 
they, as well as the robin and the wren, which 

are fond of such localities, should fall an easy 
prey to the cat, the weasel, the foumart, and 
Hanoverian rat, which last all the world knows 
to be uncommonly ravenous. To these plun- 
derers, we may possibly attribute the cause why, 
from year to year, there is no apparent increase 
in the number of these lowly winter-songsters, 
be the protection afforded them never so great. 

The last of this sweetly warbling trio, whose 
habits I am attempting to describe, is pretty 
cock-robin — the delight of our childhood, and 
an object of protection in our riper years. 
Wherever there is plenty of shelter for him, his 
song may be heard throughout the entire year, 
even in the midst of frost and snow. In the 
whole catalogue of British birds, cock-robin is 
the only one, which in his wild state can be 
really considered familiar with man. Others are 
rendered tame by famine and cold weather, and 
will cautiously approach the spot where food is 
thrown for them; but the robin will actually 
alight upon our table, and pick up crumbs on 
your own plate. When I have been digging in 
the pleasure-ground, he has come and sat upon 
my spade ; and by every gesture proved his con- 
fidence. You cannot halt for any moderate time 
in the wood, but cock-robin is sure to approach, 
and cheer you with an inward note or two; and 
on such occasions he has more than once alighted 
on my foot. This familiarity is inherent in him, 
and not acquired. I am not acquainted with any 
other wild bird that possesses it. 

Iu Italy, this social disposition of his does not 
guarantee him from destruction by the hand of 
man. At the bird-market near the Rotunda in 
Home, I have counted more than fifty robin- 
redbreasts lying dead on one stall. " Is it pos- 
sible," said I to the vendor, " that you can kill 
and eat these pretty songsters?" "Yes," said 
he with a grin, "and if you loill take a dozen of 
them home for your dinner to-day, you will come back 
for two dozen to-morrow '." 

It is the innocent familiarity of this sweet 
warbler which causes it to be such a favorite 
with all ranks of people in England. Nobody 
ever thinks of doing it an injury. " That's poor 
cock robin! — don't hurt poor cock-robin! " says 
the nursery maid, when her infant charge would 
wish to capture it. Mrs. Barbauld has introduced 
cock-robin into her plaintive story of Pity ; and 
when we study the habits of this bird, and see 
that his intimacy with us far surpasses that of 
any other known wild one, we no longer wonder 
that the author of that pathetic ballad, The 
Children in the Wood, should have singled out 
the red-breast amongst all the feathered tribe, 
to do them the last sad act of kindness. They 
had been barbarously left to perish, and had died 
of cold and want. Cock-robin found them ; and 
he is described as bringing leaves in his mouth, 
and covering their dead bodies with them. 

" Their pretty lips with black-berries 
Were all besmeared and dyed ; 
And when they saw the darksome night, 
They laid them down and cried. 

No burial these pretty babes 
Of any man receives 
Till robin-redbreast, painfully, 
Did cover them with leaves." 

This ballad has something in it peculiarly cal- 


culated to touch the finest feelings of the human 
heart. Perhaps, there is not a village or hamlet 
in England that has not heard what befel the 
babes in the wood ; and how poor cock-robin did 
all in his power for them when death had closed 
their eyes. I wish it were in my power to do 
only half as much in favor of some other birds 
as this well-known ballad of The Children in the 
Wood has done for poor cock-robin! — Charles 

[Second Article.] 
In our Paper of last week, we inserted 
some very minute and interesting particulars 
connected with the total destruction of our 
choice birds by Rats. We then promised 
to relate at an early day, how we vanquished 
the enemy. The subjoined was an amateur 
contribution to the Gardeners' Chronicle, 
February 9, 1850. As that paper is quite 
out of print, and many persons have vainly 
tried to obtain it, there needs no apology 
for its insertion here : — 

" jRafs-bane" properly so called — a Settler for the 

" Sir, — When I published, in your paper 
of January 12, the irreparable loss I had 
sustained by an army of rats, who had re- 
morselessly eaten up all save eleven of my 
large and favorite family of "pet" birds, 
collected at much cost and with considerable 
trouble during a period of twenty years — I 
felt sure that some, at least, if not all of your 
correspondents would sympathise with me, 
and assist me to the utmost of their ability 
in placing the enemy hors de combat. Nor 
did I reckon without my host. 

" From all parts of the United Kingdom 
have I received letters of condolence, many 
of them conveying hints invaluable for my 
guidance in carrying on the war of exter- 
mination with certainty and despatch ; and 
emphatically requesting that the " result " 
of my proceedings might be made publicly 
known. In the columns of the Gardeners' 1 
Chronicle, too, there have appeared each 
week some very valuable suggestions which 
I have carefully noted, and for which I 
hereby tender my best thanks to the kind 
writers. For the benefit of all who may 
hereafter fall victims to the rapacity of rats, 
I will now, as briefly as may be, lay before 
them my military tactics, and explain how I 
finally brought up my corps de reserve, 
which gained me a decisive victory. 

"Instead of commencing hostilities at once, 
on discovering the extent of the ravages 
committed — I gave encouragement to the 
enemy, by throwing in his way divers ar- 
ticles of food, such as dripping, lard, meat, 
bones, fish, and other dainties. This gave 

him confidence, and threw him off his guard, 
so that he revelled unsuspiciously among 
all the good things of this life, while I Avas 
secretly plotting his destruction. I took 
care, meantime, to secure all the hen-houses, 
and shut the inmates up every night, to 
protect them from their blood-thirsty foe. 
The great field-day was Friday last, a day 
I shall long remember. I devoted it entirely 
to strategy. 

" Nil actum reputans dum quid super esset 
agendum, I completed all my arrangements 
before the hour of dusk, impatiently waiting 
for the rising sun of the morrow. Poison 
was my weapon ; fresh herrings and sprats 
were my aides-de-camp. The poison was 
common carbonate of barytes, ground to an 
impalpable powder — and phosphorus. An 
incision was first made in the backs of the 
herrings, and the carbonate of barytes well 
rubbed in. The parts were then, as artisti- 
cally as possible, reunited. The sprats 
being smaller than the herrings, and more 
plastic, were pierced through their sides 
with a sharp piece of deal wood. Had a 
knife, a fork, or the human hand touched 
them, all would have been vain ! The barytes 
was then " drilled in," and other sprats, not- 
poisoned, were placed above and below 
them, so that suspicion was disarmed. " La- 
tet anguis in herba ! " 

" It should be borne in mind, that the 
barytes is without taste and without smell ; 
hence its great value. The Avay in which I 
applied the phosphorus would take more 
space to detail than you can well afford 
in one number of your paper. At a future 
time I will gladly furnish particulars of this, 
and other interesting matters, connected 
with my recent experiments : for I have 
been both a " sapper " and a " miner ! " 

" When the preparations were all com- 
pleted, I stationed my trusty messengers in 
every part of the garden and shrubberies — 
some under trees, some in flower-pots, some 
hidden by a brick, others partly imbedded 
in the garden walks. They " did their 
bidding" right well. On coming down 
stairs the morning following, I found the 
enemy had fallen into the snare. There was 
a serious diminution of the provisions fur- 
nished for their repast, and the hand of 
death was observable on every side. To use 
an expressive, and most appropriate classi- 
cal quotation, there was a visible " Decessio 
pereuntium — successio pefiturorurn" which 
clearly proved I had won the day. In a 
word, two days and two nights effectually 
routed the whole army, and 1 was left 
master of the field. 

"If it be urged by some, as perhaps it will 
be, that I am cruel, consider the aggrava- 
tion ! — an unprovoked and brutal attack 
upon a large affectionate family of sleeping 

innocents, who were ruthlessly snatched 
from their beds at midnight, torn limb from 
limb, and their agonised bodies crunched— 
•ay, crunched is the word — between the 
fangs of murderous assassins ! Oh, ' Had 
all their hairs been lives, my great revenge 
had stomach for them all ! ' — William Kidd, 
Sanders' Cottage, New Boad, Hammersmith, 
Feb. 5. 

% 1850." 

Pictures of Domestic Life. — Ho 1. 


Well, I will try and love her, then, 

But do not ask me yet ; 
You know my own dear, dead Mamma, 

I never must forget! 

Don't you remember, dear Papa, 

The night before she died 
You carried me into her room ? 

How bitterly I cried ! 

Her thin white fingers on my head 

So earnestly she laid, 
And her sunk eyes gleamed fearfully, 

I felt almost afraid. 

You lifted me upon the bed, 

To kiss her pale cold cheek; 
And something rattled in her throat, 

I scarce could hear her speak: — 

But she did whisper, — " When I'm gone 

For ever from your sight, 
And others have forgotten me, 

Don't you forget me quite! " 

And often in my dreams I feel 

Her hand upon my head, 
And see her sunken eyes as plain , 

As if she were not dead. 

I hear her feeble, well-known voice, 

Amidst the silent night, 
Repeat her dying words again — 

" Don't you forget me quite! " 

It sometimes wakes me, and I think 

I'll run into her room; 
And then I weep to recollect, 

She's sleeping in the tomb. 

I miss her in our garden walks ; — 
At morn and ev'ning prayer; 

At church — at play — at home — abroad — 
I miss her every where :— 

But most of all I miss her when 

The pleasant daylight's fled, 
And strangers draw the certains round 

My lonely little bed ! — 

For no one comes to kiss me now, 
Nor bid poor Anne — " Good night! *' 

Nor hear me say my pretty hymn ; 
I shall forget it quite ! 

They tell me this Mamma is rich, 

And beautiful, and fine ; 
Bat will she love you, dear Papa, 

More tenderly than mine? 

And will she, when the fever conies, 

With its bewild'ring pain, 
Watch night by night your restless couch 

Till you are well again? 

When first she sung your fav'rite song, 
" Come to the Sunset Tree," 

Which my poor mother used to sing, 
With me upon her knee, — 

I saw you turn your head away ; 

I saw your eyes were wet ; 
'Midst all our glittering company, 

You do not quite forget ! 

But must you never wear again 
The ring poor mother gave? 

Will it be long before the grass 
Is green upon her grave ? — 

He turned him from that gentle child, 
His eyes with tears were dim; 

At thought of the undying love 
Her mother bore to him ! 

He met his gay, his beauteous bride, 

With spirits low and weak ; 
And missed the kind consoling words 

The dead was wont to speak. 

Long years rolled on; but hope's gay flowers 

Blossom'd for him in vain; 
The freshness of life's morning hours 

Never returned again ! 

2To. 1. — Female Costume. 


" Reform it altogether," — Shakspeare. 

He were indeed a bold man — such are 
not we — who would dare to utter all his 
thoughts upon so serious a question as Ladies 1 
Dress ! Neither would we allude to it, did 
not our position as journalists, and our pro- 
mise to notice passing events, lend a sanc- 
tion to it. We are avowedly " lovers of 
Nature ; " and this induces us to speak 
freely when her " laws " are outraged. We 
also greatly admire art, but only when kept 
in its proper place. This premised, Ave will 
let a few, and a few only, of our thoughts 
ooze out. Being a man blessed with a 
large family, we feel we are privileged to do 

Our eye has for many weeks been fixed 
upon the rise and progress of " Bloomerism," 
and our pen has been rampant for an oppor- 
tunity to stifle it in its birth. It was well- 
meant, certainly, to try and introduce what 
was considered a change for the better ; and 



so far, so good. But the projectors of it, — - 
where are they ? The aiders and abettors 
of it, — where are they ? The principal per- 
formers in it, — where are they? Gone — 
all gone ! Our pen, at the eleventh , hour, 
therefore, is useless. 

We have no wish to be regarded as over- 
scrupulous. The public seem to think that 
a black-eyed, roguish, trim-built hoyden, 
decked in all the "taking" insignia of 
" Bloomerism," and vegetating behind the 
bar of a tavern, is a smart sight ! So it is. 
It is, moreover, in keeping with the cha- 
racter of the house, and brings grist to the 
till of the proprietor. But for an} 7 person 
seriously to contemplate the general intro- 
duction of short skirts, fore-shortened pan- 
talettes, wide-awake " tiles," and the cerise 
streamer, to be worn by any of our really 
modest maidens — out upon him for a fool! 
We would die rather, pen in hand ! 

Now that the farce is over, we may fairly 
be allowed to avail ourselves of the oppor- 
tunity to offer a few observations on the ex- 
isting costume of our fair countrywomen. 
Had we not a real regard for them,, we 
should be silent. Their mode of attire is, 
undeniably, unbecoming. We say so — the 
world says so. Nature has benignantly 
given them, for the most part, beautiful 
figures ; and what use do they make of 
them ? They are, if truth be spoken — 
we speak submissively-— simply "pegs" 
whereon to hang a most ineffective drapery. 
Their form — 

"If form that can be called, which form hath 
none "— - 

is painful to a common beholder — distress- 
ing to an admiring beholder ; simply because 
his admiration must necessarily be qualified. 

Time was — long since we were boys — 
that things were mightily different. It was 
not then thought indelicate for ladies' de- 
pendencies to terminate some one-and-a-half 
inches above their ankles — thus disclosing a 
neat, pretty foot, and a clean dress ; sights 
which— lioni soit qui mal y pense — we should 
like to see again, but quite despair of the 
prospect. Their habiliments, too, were in 
unison, and we could form some pleasing 
idea of the "human form divine." Not so 
now. All is vague conjecture. They wear 
our coats and wrappers too ! 

If it were related by any wag of a tra- 
veller, that the ladies of some foreign land 
were in the habit of attiring themselves in 
the way ours do — and if minute details were 
given in a supposed book of travels, setting 
forth as actual facts the habits which exist 
here ; our countrywomen would be shocked 

" Nomine mutato, narratur fabnla de te" 

says the poet ; but, as we all know, none 

are so blind as those who wilfully refuse to 
see. " Tis true, 'tis pity : pity 'tis, 'tis 
true ! " How have we shuddered, how do 
we shudder, whenever we have the misfor- 
tune to walk behind any of our ladies fair 
on a wet clay ! What a disclosure, when 
the heavy folds of drapery are raised ! 
What awfully-dirty stockings ! What 
filthity-muddy accoutrements ! Well and 
truly have the wearers of these long dra- 
peries been christened " street-sweepers ! " 
We say nothing about the extra costs out of 
" the governors' " pockets — to buy new 
dresses ! 

It is mere maudlin affectation to say that 
these habits are induced by feelings of 
delicacy ; for the very same persons will 
appear, night after night, at a party or a 
theatre, in a state of semi-nudity ; and no 
blush mantling upon their cheeks. We love 
modesty — dote on it — but we equally detest 
" mock "-modesty. It has been wisely said — 

" In medio iutissimus ihis ; " 

this is always the safest course, for extremes 
are ever bad : verbum sat. 

What we propose is — a return to the 
" good old times ;" when our sisters, our 
mothers, our " heart's delight," and our 
female acquaintance, could skip, run, romp, 
dance— ay, and assist us in weeding a 
garden, and potting our plants. This, now, 
is out of the question. They cannot stoop — 
their drapery sweeps the ground, even when 
they stand erect ! Thus are we deprived of 
what we ought to expect by right. In 
sober truth, our lot is — " dummies ! " 

We were in hopes, that Mrs. Amelia 
Bloomer would at least have been the 
means of introducing a modified change of 
female apparel ; and Jullien, by the aid of a 
clever artist, who produced a most chastely- 
attired, well-formed figure, has materially 
prompted the move ; but, alas ! the fancy - 
balls, public-houses, and tobacconists' shops, 
— each had their "Bloomer!" — quite de- 
stroyed the last spark of hope ; and things, 
worse luck ! remain as they were. We are 
glad to see that our much-respected con- 
temporaries, Chambers' 1 s Journal, Eliza 
Cook's Journal, with many others, quite 
agree with the spirit of our remarks. A 
correspondent of the former, even goes so 
far as to question whether our ladies are 
really possessed of " any sense !" Let us 
charitably call them " monomaniacs," and 
pray that they may have a lucid interval. 
By the way, it was the Morning Post and 
the Morning Advertiser that " scotched " 
Bloomerism. It was reserved for that 
bright luminary, the Sun, to "kill " it. We 
never saw a blow struck with such fatal 
effect. To improvise a small joke, it was a 
" coup de Soleil I " 

["Our ' Extra' Contributor," in his zeal 



for reform, lias usurped the editorial " We." 
However, we have cheerfully given up the 
reins to him for this once, as we should 
have spoilt both the tone and the force of 
his remarks by mutilation. He is of 
opinion, it would seem, that the truth IS at 
all times to be spoken !] 


Anecdotal Reminiscences,— Ko. 1. 
By a Lady. 

[A correspondent, attracted by the an- 
nouncement of our London Journal, 
(which seems indeed to have " attracted" 
many, and we hope will attract many more) 
has kindly sent us some MSS. Notes, expressly 
prepared for our Paper. We purpose giving 
the public a few of the anecdotes therein 
contained, week by week. They exhibit 
some very curious traits in the feline tribe, 
not so well known as they ought to be. We 
imagine from the exordium, that the fair 
writer has been perusing our " Essays on 
Instinct and Reason ;" but we are of a truly 
liberal disposition, and like to hear both sides 
of every question.] 

It is generally believed that Man alone is 
endowed with reason, while the lower animals 
possess instinct only. There are, however, 
so many instances where animals have, under 
peculiar circumstances, acted in a manner so 
contrary to their usual habits, that we are 
almost compelled to believe that they do 
reason, though in a limited degree. 

The common Cat is a creature whose in- 
stinct is to destroy ; yet these animals dif- 
fer from each other in their temper, pursuits, 
and amusements, as much as do human 
beings. Some are docile and anxious to be 
caressed ; others will not be touched with 
impunity. I know one, of the most savage 
disposition : she was well fed and kindly 
treated, and every endeavor was made to 
change her nature ; but we only succeeded 
in making her a hypocrite ! She would ap- 
pear well pleased with my caresses until she 
had put me off my guard ; then she would 
suddenly dart her teeth and claws into my 
hands, suddenly springing thereafter through 
the window or door. She lived twelve years, 
but never underwent any alteration. 

I once had two cats, who were always fed 
together ; but, unless they were watched, one 
of them would get nearly the whole of the 
food. She did this by hiding her own meat ; 
and having taken this precaution, she would 
return and eat that of her companion, who, 
although of larger size and stronger of the 
twain, was never known to dispute the point 
with her. She was always well fed; yet, to the 
day of her death, she provided against con- 

tingency. In opposition to this character, a 
friend of mine had a lank, apparently under- 
fed cat, who was a terrible thief; but never 
ate what he stole. He always called his 
companion, and would watch him eat with 
great satisfaction. He was frequently chas- 
tised for acts of theft; but whenever an op- 
portunely occurred, he never failed to cater 
for his weaker friend. 

Persons, " who like cats in their place ; " 
that is, hiding in a cellar to watch their prey — 
say they are stupid ; but if treated as com- 
panions, they will be found intelligent and 
affectionate, though they have sometimes "a 
strange way of showing it." An old lady 
had a grave-looking grimalkin, who always 
sat on a chair beside her at the breakfast 
table, and looked as though engaged in con- 
versation with her. She was absent a 
fortnight ; and during that time he never 
presented himself, although I offered him 
milk, &c, with a view to induce him to do 
so. When the lady returned, he took not 
the slightest notice of her ; but the next 
morning he was found in his old place at 

This reminds me of a generally-received 
opinion, that " cats have no memory, and 
soon forget their friends." Unlike the dog, 
they show no outward signs of recognition ; 
but, from observation, I feel convinced they 
do remember old friends. It is difficult, 
however, to explain the apparent indifference 
with which they meet them after a long 
absence. — M. T. 

"-Pickings up and Bettings Down." 

Character. — How different is the human 
mind according to the difference of place ! In 
our passions, as in our creeds, we are the mere 
dependents of geographical situation. Nay, the 
trifling variation of a single mile will revolution- 
ise the whole tides and torrents of our hearts. 
The man who is meek, generous, benevolent, 
and kind, in the country, enters the scene of 
contest, and becomes forthwith fiery or mean, 
selfish or stern; just as if the virtues were only 
for solitude, and the vices for a city! — JBulwer, 

The Deceit op Zeal. — There is nothing in 
which men more deceive themselves than in what 
the woidd calls zeal. There are so many passions 
which hide themselves under it, and so many 
mischiefs arising from it, that some have gone so 
far as to say it would have been for the benefit of 
mankind, if it had never been reckoned in the 
catalogue of virtues. 

Vitality op Good Men's Deeds. — Does 
not the echo of the sea-shell tell of the worm 
that once inhabited it? And shall not man's 
good deeds live after him and sing his praise? 

Moisture has been considered as a great 
enemy to health; and all our late investigations 
on the subject have pronounced on the evils of 



inhaling vapors even of an aqueous nature. 
How will men of these notions be able to combat 
the oldest practice for the preservation of health 
— viz., early rising? The sun, first risen from 
its bed, spreads its effulgent calorific rays over 
the earth's surface, and causes evaporation; it is 
this watery vapor, so often objected to by vale- 
tudinarians, that is so conducive to the free re- 
spiratory action ; it is this, with the genial warmth 
of the luminary, that gives salutary influence to 
the circulation; not by expediting the circulation, 
but by the moisture and the electric rays equal- 
ising and improving all the functions of life. All 
old people have uniformly adopted the practice 
of early rising. 

The Benevolence or Domestic Life. — As 
great and exalted spirits undertake the pursuit 
of hazardous actions for the good of others, at 
the same time gratifying their passion of glory; 
so do worthy minds in the domestic way of life 
deny themselves many advantages, to satisfy a 
generous benevolence which they bear to their 
friends oppressed with distresses and calamities. 
Such natures one may call stores of Providence, 
which are actuated by a secret celestial influence 
to undervalue the ordinary gratifications of 
wealth, to give comfort to a heart loaded with 
affliction, to save a falling family, to preserve a 
branch of trade in their neighborhood, and give 
work to the industrious, preserve the portion of 
the helpless infant, and raise the head of the 
mourning father. People whose hearts are 
wholly bent towards pleasure, or intent upon 
gain, never hear of the noble occurrences among 
men of industry and humanity. 

Sleep. — There is no better description given 
of the approach of sleep, than that in one of 
Leigh Hunt's papers, in the Indicator : — " It is 
a delicious movement certainly, that of being 
well nestled in bed ; and feeling that you shall 
drop gently to sleep. The good is to come, not 
past; the limbs have been just tired enough to 
render the remaining in one posture delightful; 
the labor of the day is done. A gentle failure 
of the perceptions comes creeping over; the spirit 
of consciousness disengages itself more, and with 
slow and hushing degrees, like a mother detach- 
ing her hand from that of her sleeping child ; the 
mind seems to have a balmy lid closing over it, 
like the eye ; 'tis more closing — 'tis closed. The 
mysterious spirit has gone to take its airy rounds." 

Genius. — Genius is the instinct of flight. A 
boy came to Mozart, wishing to compose some- 
thing, and inquiring the way to begin, Mozart 
told him to wait. "Yon composed much earlier." 
" But asked nothing about it," replied the musi- 
cian. Cowper expressed the same sentiment to 
a friend: — "Nature gives men a bias to their 
respective pursuits, and that strong propensity, I 
suppose, is what we mean by. genius." M. An- 
gelo is hindered in his childish studies of art; 
Eaffaelle grows up with pencil and colors for 
playthings. One neglects school to copy draw- 
ings, which he dared not to bring home; the 
father of the other takes a journey to find his son 
a worthier teacher. M. Angelo forces his, Eaf- 
faelle is guided into it. But each looks for it 
with longing eyes. In some way or other the 
man is tracked in the little footsteps of the child. 

A Bong for January. 

By H. G. Adams. 

Fling sad memories to the wind, 

Wipe regretful tears away ; 
Cast no ling'ring looks behind, 

Time will not his progress stay — 

Therefore now his call obey. 
He hath turned another leaf, 

And he says, " make no delay ; 
Write thereon "the hour is brief," 
Quickly write " the hour is brief! " 

On the past we'll look no more, 

Unto most it is a page, 
Sadly blurr'd and blotted o'er — 

As we pass from youth to age, 

Foolish thoughts our hearts engage; 
And the record of our deeds 

Shames us in our moments sage. 
Ground o'ergrown with noxious weeds, 
Is that record of our deeds ! 

Now no more the mournful dirge 

Soundeth sadly on the ear; 
With a bound we pass the verge 

Of the new and untried year; 

While the joy-bells ring out clear, 
And the soul exultant springs 

Forward; and Hope hovers near, 
Poised on outspread radiant wings ; 
Yes, on rainbow-tinted wings. 

Fresh and fair the landscape lies, 

All o'erspread with spotless white ; 
We have seen the young sun rise, 

Tinging it with roseate light. 

We have stepped from out the night 
Of the tempest and the tomb, 

Into sunshine clear and bright. 
Let us not, in love with gloom, 
Turn again unto the tomb. 

Through a grand triumphal arch, 

Deck'd with glittering pinnacles, 
Hath the year begun its march; 

Leaps the pulse, the bosom swells, 

As the music of the bells 
Vibrates in the frosty air; 

And the bounding footstep tells 
Health and youth are passing there, 
Breathing free the cold, keen air. 

Lo! the snow-clad hills sublime, 
Rise like pillars to the sky; 

They have, since the birth of Time, 
Seen full many a year go by 
With proud step and flashing eye; 

Smiling grim the while, as though 

They would say "Ah, courage high! 

Soon the lofty is brought low, 

And the quick step rendered slow !" 

London:— Published by George Berger, Holywell 
Street, Strand (to whom' all Letters and Communica- 
tions for the Editor, and Books for Review, are to be 
forwarded), and Procurable, by order, of every Book- 
seller and Newsvendor in the Kingdom. 

London : Myers & Co., Printers 22, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 


Conducted by WILLIAM KZDD, of Hammersmith,— 
author oe the familiar and popular essays on "natural hlstory; " "british song 
Birds;" "Birds op Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" 
" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c. 

"the OBJECT op our work is to make men WISER, WITHOUT obliging them to turn over folios and 


No. 3.—1852. 


Price \\d. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price Id. 

Preliminary Observations. 

We already perceive by the channels into 
which our London Journal is fast rind- 
ing its way, that Natural History, or a 
proper knowledge of God in his Works, is, 
as we asserted it to be, a study that is daily 
becoming more interesting, more popular. 
Indeed, it is delightful to know that we have 
made so happy a hit, in launching with the 
new year a medium of communication with 
the intelligent public, for which there was so 
good an opening, and for which there is 
so extensive a demand. The heads of 
schools, private families, parents, govern- 
esses, teachers, guardians, and all who try to 
win and woo youth to the admiration of 
Nature (in this matter we should all be as 
children), in her manifold operations — all 
are largely interested in the circulation of 
a work such as we are determined the 
London Journal shall be. 

Nor shall we lose sight of the many kind 
" hints" that have been incidentally dropped, 
conjuring us to study " variety" as much 
as possible. It is considered — mirabile clictu ! 
that our First Number is as admirable a 
model of what the London Journal ought 
to be, both in its objects and subjects, as 
could have been produced by long protracted 
study. This is gratifying; as the model 
and the idea were the result of a happy 
thought, in a happy moment — one of those 
happy thoughts that sometimes cross us 
once only through a long life. We shall 
not fail to profit from the universal bias 
shown towards our " No. I." 

It is yet early for us to talk about having 
"matured our plans." Each successive 
week, as Contributions fall in from all 
quarters, will itself decide the tone that 
our Paper is likely to take. The feathered 
race, in all that appertains to them, is evi- 
dently one of our " strongest" points ; and 
as one of our intelligent correspondents 
has observed, seeing that nearly every 

respectable family in the kingdom has a 
" pet" of some sort, it may readily be fore- 
seen that a consideration of their respec- 
tive claims must be one of our most pro- 
minent features. It shall be so. 

We are not at all sorry for this ; for we 
have observed with pleasure, that whenever 
children show kindness to the dumb, or 
irrational creation, much may be expected 
from them at a future day, provided their 
minds be properly cultivated. On the con 
trary, wherever we have seen innate cruelty, 
and a pleasurable delight in inflicting pain 
on any dumb animal, we have not failed to 
observe rank weeds defiling " that man" in 
his riper years. Early education either lays 
the basis for a virtuous, happy life — or it 
lets a person loose upon society, to carry 
out stealthily and wickedly the precepts 
instilled into him from his very childhood. 
Hence, the sights — revolting to humanity, 
and dishonoring to the Almighty, that 
meet us at the corner of every street in this 
modern Babylon ! Happy shall we be — 
thrice happy, if in our humble vocation we 
can assist, even in the smallest degree, to 
win the attention of youth ; and when won, 
to instil into their minds by wholesome 
instruction and pleasing amusement, the 
delight that must ever be experienced from 
" following that which is good." 

Ours, let us observe, is a most righteous 
cause, Our sentiments are truly " Li- 
beral." Sectarianism haunts us not; and 
most heartily do we hate cant. Wlierever 
we see virtue, we admire it ; and we shall al- 
ways give the right hand of fellowship to 
those who will aid us in this our pleasurable 
weekly task. 

The field we labor in is so fertile ; the 
flowers we seek to cultivate are so nu- 
merous, and so sweet; and our employ- 
ment in keeping the garden clear from 
weeds, will be so very constant — that 
if we promise " inexhaustible entertain- 
ment," we can hardly run any risk of being 
deemed " rash," We make this promise. 

Vol. I.— New Series. 


Outlines of Comparative Physiology, etc.— 

By Louis Agassiz and A. A. Gould. 

[second notice.] 

As we have before commented on this 
very admirable book, and promised, at an 
early day, to give our readers a profitable 
advantage from our labors in its perusal — 
we now detach some miscellaneous passages, 
all bearing upon the legitimate objects of our 
London Journal in this particular depart- 
ment ; and tending to make the inquiring 
mind thirst for more knowledge from the 
fountain head. Knowledge is the only thing, 
perhaps, of which we cannot possess too 
much ; for it does not " perish in the using." 

Let us first glance at the powers inherent 
in us by an especial gift, and which, as being 
" reasonable " creatures, are vested in us 
alone. We will then, pari passu, take a peep 
into this our lower world: 

Man, in virtue of his twofold constitution, the 
spiritual and the material, is qualified to com- 
prehend Nature. Having been made in the spi- 
ritual image of God, he is competent to rise to 
the conception of His plan and purpose in the 
works of Creation. Having also a material body, 
like that of animals, he is prepared to understand 
the mechanism of organs, and to appreciate the 
necessities of matter, as well as the influence 
which it exerts over the intellectual element, 
throughout the whole domain of Nature. 

The spirit and preparation we bring to the 
study of Nature, is not a matter of indifference. 
Vfhen we would study with profit a work of lite- 
rature, we first endeavor to make ourselves ac- 
quainted with the genius of the author ; and in 
order to know what end he had in view, we must 
have regard to his previous labors, and to the 
circumstances under which the work was exe- 
cuted. Without this, although we may perhaps 
enjoy the perfection of the whole, and admire the 
beauty of its details, yet the spirit which pervades 
it will escape us, and many passages may even 
remain unintelligible. 

So, in the study of Nature, we may he as- 
tonished at the infinite variety of her products, 
and may even study some portion of her works 
with enthusiasm, and nevertheless remain stran- 
gers to the spirit of the whole, ignorant of the 
plan on which it is based; and may fail to ac- 
quire a proper conception of the varied affinities 
which combine beings together, so as to make of 
them that vast picture, in which each animal, 
each plant, each group, each class, has its place, 
and from which nothing could be removed with- 
out destroying the proper meaning of the whole. 

It is but a short time since- it was not difficult 
for a man to possess himself of the whole domain 
of positive knowledge in Zoology. A century 
ago, the number of known animals did not ex- 
ceed 8000; that is to say, in the whole Animal 
Kingdom, fewer species were then known than 
are now contained in many private collections 
of certain families of insects alone. At the pre- 
sent day, the number of living species which 

have been satisfactorily made out and described, 
is more than 50,000. 

The number of vertebrate animals may be 
estimated at 20,000. About 1500 species of 
mammals are pretty precisely known, and the 
number may probably be carried to about 

The number of birds well known is 4 or 5000 
species, and the probable number is 6000. 

The reptiles, like the mammals, number about 
1500 described species, and will probably reach 
the number of 2000. 

The fishes are more numerous; there are from 
5 to 6000 species in the museums of Europe, and 
the number may probably amount to 8 or 

The number of mollusks already in collections, 
probably reaches 8 or 10,000. There are col- 
lections of marine shells, bivalve, and univalve, 
which amount to 5 or 6000 ; and collections of 
land and fiuviatile shells, which count as many 
as 2000. The total number of mollusks would 
therefore probably exceed 15,000 species. 

Among the articulated animals it is difficult 
to estimate the number of species. There are 
collections of coleopterous insects which number 
20 to 25,000 species ; and it is quite probable, 
that by uniting the principal collections of insects 
60 or 80,000 species might now be counted ; for the 
whole departmentof articulata,c ^uprising the Crus- 
tacea, the cirrhipeda, the insects, the red-blooded 
worms, the intestinal worms, and the infusoria, 
as far as they belong to this department, the 
number would already amount to 100,000; and 
we might safely compute the probable number of 
species actually existing at double that sum. 

Add to these about 10,000 for radiata, echini, 
star-fishes, medusa?, and polypi, and we have 
about 250,000 species of living animals; and sup- 
posing the number of fossil species only to 
equal them, we have, at a very moderate com- 
putation, half a million of species. 

The fossils already described exceed 6000 
species; and if we consider that wherever any 
one stratum of the earth has been well explored, the 
number of species discovered has not fallen below 
that of the living species which now inhabit any 
particular locality of equal extent, and then bear 
in mind that there is a great number of geologi- 
cal strata, we may anticipate the day when the 
ascertained fossil species will far exceed the 
living species. 

These numbers, far from discouraging, should, 
on the contrary, encourage those who study 
Natural History. Each new species is, in some 
respects, a radiating point which throws ad- 
ditional light on all around it ; so that as the 
picture is enlarged, it at the same time becomes 
more intelligible to those who are competent to 
seize its prominent traits. 

To give a detailed account of each and all of 
these animals, and to show their relations to each 
other, is the task of the Naturalist. 

Every well-educated person is expected to have 
a general acquaintance with the great natural 
phenomena constantly displayed before his eyes. 
A general knowledge of man and the subordi- 
nate animals, embracing their structure, races, 
habits, distribution, mutual relations, &c., is cal- 
culated not only to conduce essentially to ou 



happiness, but is a study which, it would be in- 
excusable to neglect. 

A sketch of this nature should render prominent 
the more general features of animal life, and de- 
lineate the arrangement of the species according 
to their most natural relations and their rank in 
the scale of being; and thus give a panorama, 
as it were, of the entire Animal Kingdom. To 
accomplish this, we are at once involved in the 
question, what is it that gives an animal preced- 
ence in rank? 

In one sense, all animals are equally perfect. 
Each species has its definite sphere of action, 
whether more or less extended,— its own peculiar 
office in the economy of nature; and is perfectly 
adapted to fulfil all the purposes of its creation, 
beyond the possibility of improvement. In this 
sense, every animal is perfect. But there is a, 
wide difference among them, in respect to their 
organisation. In some it is very simple, and 
very limited in its operation; in others, extremely 
complicated, and capable of exercising a great 
variety of functions. 

In this physiological point of view, an animal 
may be said to be more perfect in proportion as 
its relations with the external world are more 
varied ; in other words, the more numerous its 
functions are. Thus, a quadruped, or a bird, 
which has the five senses fully developed, and 
which has, moreover, the faculty of readily trans- 
porting itself from place to place, is more perfect 
than a snail, whose senses are very obtuse, and 
whose motion is very sluggish. [This we have 
elaborately shown in our " Treatise on Animal 

In like manner, each of the organs, when sepa- 
rately considered, is found to have every degree 
of complication, and, consequently, every degree 
of nicety in the performance of its function. 
Thus, the eye-spots of the star-fish and jelly-fish 
are probably endowed with the faculty of per- 
ceiving light, without the power of distinguishing 
objects. The keen eye of the bird, on the con- 
trary, discerns minute objects at a great distance, 
and when compared with the eye of a fly, is 
found to be not only more complicated, but con- 
structed on an entirely different plan. It is the 
same with every other organ. 

We understand the faculties of animals, and 
appreciate their value, just in proportion as we 
become acquainted with the instruments which 
execute them. The study of the functions or 
uses of organs therefore requires an examination 
of their structure; Anatomy and Physiology 
must never be disjoined, and ought to precede 
the systematic distribution of animals into classes, 
families, genera, and species. 

In this general view of organisation, we must 
ever bear in mind the necessity of carefully dis- 
tinguishing between affinities and analogies, a 
fundamental principle recognised even by Aris- 
totle, the founder of scientific Zoology. Affinity 
or homology is the relation between organs or 
parts of the body which are constructed on the 
same plan, however much they vary in form, or 
serve for different uses. Analogy, on the con- 
trary, indicates the similarity of purposes or 
functions performed by organs of different 

Thus, there is an analogy between the wing 

of a bird and that of a butterfly, since both of 
them serve for flight. But there is no affinity 
between them, since, as we shall hereafter see, 
they differ totally in their anatomical relations. 
On the other hand, there is an affinity between 
the bird's wing and the hand of a monkey, since, 
although they serve for different purposes, the 
one for climbing, and the other for flight, yet 
they are constructed on the same plan. Accord- 
ingly, the bird is more nearly allied to the mon- 
key than to the butterfly, though it has the 
faculty of flight in common with the latter. 
Affinities, and not analogies, therefore, must 
guide us in the arrangement of animals. 

Our investigations should not be limited to 
adult animals, but should also be directed to the 
changes which they undergo during the whole 
course of their development. Otherwise, we 
shall be liable to exaggerate the importance of 
certain peculiarities of structure which have a 
predominant character in the full-grown animal, 
but which are shaded off, and vanish, as we revert 
to the earlier periods of life. 

Again, we have a means of appreciating the 
relative grade of animals by the comparative 
study of their development. It is evident that 
the caterpillar, in becoming a butterfly, passes 
from a lower to a higher state ; clearly, therefore, 
animals resembling the caterpillar, as, for instance, 
worms, occupy a lower rank than insects. 
There is no animal which does not undergo a 
series of changes similar to those of the cater- 
pillar or the chicken ; only, in many of them, 
the most important ones occur before birth, 
during what is called the embryonic period. 

The life of the chicken has not just commenced 
when it issues from the egg; for, if we break the 
shell some days previous to the time of hatching, 
we find in it a living animal, which, although 
imperfect, is nevertheless a chicken; it has been 
developed from a hen's egg, and we know that, 
should it continue to live, it will infallibly display 
all the characteristics of the parent bird. Now, 
if there existed in nature an adult bird, as im- 
perfectly organised as the chicken on the day 
before it was hatched, we should assign to it an 
inferior rank. 

How very striking are the relations that exist 
between animals and the regions they inhabit! 
Every animal has its home. Animals of the cold 
regions are not the same as those of temperate 
climates; and these latter, in their turn, differ 
from those of tropical regions. Certainly, no one 
will maintain it to be the effect of accident that 
the monkeys, the most perfect of all brute ani- 
mals, are found only in hot countries; or that it 
is by chance that the white bear and reindeer 
inhabit only cold regions. 

Nor is it by chance that the largest of all 
animals, of every class, as the whales, the aquatic 
birds, and the sea-turtles, dwell in the water 
rather than on the land; and while this element 
affords freedom of motion to the largest, so is it 
also the home of the smallest of living things. 

Such are some of the general aspects in which 
we shall contemplate the animal creation. Two 
points of view should never be lost sight of, or 
disconnected, namely, the animal in respect to 
its own organism, and the animal in its relations 
to creation as a whole. By adopting too exclu- 


sively either of these points of view, we are in 
danger of falling either into gross materialism, 
or into vague pantheism. He who beholds 
nothing in Nature besides organs and their func- 
tions, may persuade himself that the animal is 
merely a combination of chemical and mathe- 
matical actions and reactions, and thus becomes 
a materialist. 

We have here thrown together a mass of 
valuable observations, which will greatly 
induce to "thought; 1 ' and we have little 
doubt they will pave the way to much useful 

The Bee-Keeper' 's Manual ; or Practical 
Hints for the Management and Complete 
Preservation of ■ the Honey Bee. — By Henry 
Taylor. 4-th edition, Revised, Enlarged, and 
Improved. 12mo. Groombridge and 

" Twelve years," says the author of this 
valuable little book, " have elapsed since 
the original publication of the ' Bee-keep- 
er's Manual.' For the fourth time the 
author is called upon to revise his little 
book ; and he still thinks that the leading 
object in offering it to public notice will best 
be explained in the words with which it was 
first introduced. The existence of the fol- 
lowing pages had its origin, some time ago, 
in the request of a friend, that the author 
would give him a brief practical compen- 
dium of the management of bees, on the 
humane or depriving system. Similar appli- 
cations came from other quarters. The 
subject is one which has of late acquired in- 
creased interest ; but the hints following 
would perhaps never have been prepared for 
the press, had not the hours of a protracted 
confinement by illness required some diver- 
sity of occupation and amusement. On re- 
viewing his experience as an amateur bee- 
keeper, the author was led to believe that 
the result of it, added to a concise view of 
such particulars as are usually spread over 
a large surface in works of this nature, and 
arranged according to the progressive order 
of the -seasons, might be useful to others, 
seeking like himself occasional relaxation 
from weightier matters in watching over and 
protecting these interesting and valuable 
insects. Step by step this or that defect of 
construction in his hives had been remedied, 
and such conveniencies added as necessity 
or the spirit of improvement from time to 
time had suggested. These are briefly de- 
scribed in the following little work. If it 
have the good fortune, though in a small 
degree, to smooth the path (usually a rough 
and uncertain one) of the apiarian novice — 
of removing ignorance and prejudice, or of 
ohviating any portion of the difficulties 
with which a more general cultivation of 
bees has to contend—why may not the con- 
tribution of this mite be considered a 

humble addition to the store of useful 


" In its present renewed form, the author 
has been induced partially to extend his first 
design (originally much restricted in its 
scope), by entering someAvhat more at large 
into the subject of Bee-management, and the 
general details of practice. Although not 
professing to offer his remarks to any par- 
ticular class of readers, he is, nevertheless, 
inclined to think they will frequently be 
found, in an especial degree, applicable to 
the position of the amateur apiarian. For 
the peculiar use of cottage bee-keepers, 
tracts and scraps innumerable have been 
issued — probably with very uncertain effect. 
In short, there is little room for doubt that 
these can be more effectually benefited by 
example and verbal advice, than by any 
kind of printed instructions. Be this as it 
may, leaving out of the question the long- 
train of contingencies incident to locality, 
season, &c, much must often be left to indivi- 
dual judgment and careful observation ; and 
no writer can be expected to meet every sup- 
posable case of difficulty in dealing with 
insects, confessedly often so intractable as 
bees. The author, therefore, must be con- 
sidered as merely laying down a scheme of 
general recommendations ; aiming much less 
at novelty than at plain practical utility; 
not hesitating occasionally to borrow the lan- 
guage of other unexceptionable authorities 
where it clearly expressed his convictions, 
or coincided with the results of his own ex- 
perience ; but carefully abstaining from any 
interference with the dogmatists and hyper- 
critics in the settlement of the affairs of 
their peculiar vocation. 

" If some of the recommendations rela- 
tive to the construction of hives or their 
appurtenances appear to be tedious to the 
general reader, it must be borne in mind 
that these directions are chiefly addressed 
to the mechanic, who will rarely be found 
to object that his particular department has 
been aided by a careful attention to matters 
of detail in description. 

" On the whole, the author is induced to 
hope that the improved arrangement, addi- 
tional information, and variety of illustra- 
tion now introduced, will render superfluous 
any apology for a small unavoidable increase 
in the size of the book." 

We have chosen to give the Preface to a 
modest, unpretending book like this, entire. 
When we say that the contents bear out 
what has been advanced by the author in 
his Preface, any comment of ours beyond 
this would be superfluous. The volume is 
full of interesting matter, and we shall fre- 
quently, no doubt, have occasion to extract 
" honey" from it. We will therefore now 
only give Mr. Taylor's neat and intelligent 
comments on the Queen, or Mother Bee ; 

the Common, or Working Bee ; and the 
Drone, or Male Bee : — 


Is very rarely to be seen : she is darker, longer, 
and more taper towards the end of her body than 
the common bees, has shorter legs and wings, 
and is of a yellowish brown color underneath. 
She reigns supreme in the hive, admitting no 
rival or equal ; and is armed with a sting, which 
is somewhat more curved than that of the 
common bees. Where she goes, the other bees 
follow; and where she is not, none will long re- 
main. A queen bee has been known to live four 
or five years ; she is the mother of the entire 
community, laying the eggs from which all pro- 
ceed, whether future queens, drones, or workers. 
Separate her from the family, and she speedily 
resents the injury, refuses food, pines, and dies. 
Without a queen, or a prospect of one, labor is 
suspended, and a gradual dispersion of the com- 
munity ensues. The young queens are not bred 
in the hexagonal cells of the common bees, but 
in much larger ones, which, when complete, 
present in form the appearance of a pear, or an 
oblong spheroid, generally appended perpendi- 
cularly to the sides of the combs, the small end 
or mouth being downwards. They vary in 
number from five or six to a dozen, and sometimes 
more. The eggs deposited in the royal cells, are 
laid after those of common bees and drones, the 
young princesses arriving at maturity on the six- 
teenth day. Of these we shall speak more at large 
hereafter. This is the common course of events ; 
but it is a well-established fact, that in case of 
an emergency the bees have the power (provided 
there is brood -comb in the hive at the time) of 
filling the casual vacancies in the sovereignty, by 
the creation (as it may be termed) of a young 
queen, thus in fact proving that the prevalent 
notion as to an inherent difference between royal 
and common eggs is erroneous. They select one 
of the common grubs in a certain stage, enlarge 
and alter the cell that contains it, and by a 
different kind of nurture (a point, however, ques- 
tioned by some naturalists), a sovereign is reared, 
and the work of procreation recommences. 


Are the least in size, and in point of numbers are 
variously calculated at twelve to thirty thousand, 
according to the bulk of the swarm ; though at 
certain times they are often much more nume- 
rous. As regards sex, there is no reason to 
doubt they are females in which the reproductive 
organs are not fully developed ; and like the 
Queen or Mother Bee, each has the power of 

The eggs of the bee are about the size of those 
produced by a butterfly. Those for workers are 
deposited in the cells in the centre of the hive, 
being the part first selected for that purpose. 
The brood of common bees, more or less 
advanced, is to be found in a stock hive nearly 
all the year round ; but the great laying of the 
queen takes place in April and May, when the 
number of eggs produced by her has been esti- 
mated at from 100 to 200 in a day. Taking as 
our guide the calculations of many apiarians, a 
good queen (for they are not all prolific alike) 
will lay in a year from 40,000 to 80,000, or more. 

Dr. Bevan remarks, (i This sounds like a great 
number, but it is much exceeded by some other 
insects." In four or five clays the eggs are 
hatched, remaining in the larva or grub state four 
to six clays more, during which time they are 
assiduously fed by the nurse-bees. They then 
assume the nymph or pupa form, and spin them- 
selves a film or cocoon, the nurses immediately 
after sealing them up with a substance which 
Huber calls wax. It is, howe r, thicker, more 
highly colored, and apparently less tenacious, 
probably to facilitate the escape of the im- 
prisoned bee. This takes place about the 
twenty-first day from the laying of the egg. It 
is speedily cleaned by its companions, and in a 
day or two has been known to be gathering 
honey in the fields. 

As soon as the young bee comes forth, the 
others clear the cell from all impurity, and it 
again receives an egg; this being often repeated — 
four or five times in the season. Afterwards the 
cell becomes a receptacle for honey ; but with all 
their attention, the cells are found in time to 
become contracted or thickened by this rapid 
succession of tenants. When this takes place, 
it is best gradually to remove the combs, in the 
way hereafter to be pointed out, which the bees 
will soon replace with new ones. It has been 
asserted that young bees, bred in old contracted 
cells, are proportionately smaller in size. 

Though we have, as I conceive, no actual 
proof that the occupations of individual bees are 
at all times unchangeably directed to one point 
(as some naturalists have imagined), observa- 
tion shows that the division of labor is one of 
their leading characteristics. Some are engaged 
in secreting and elaborating wax for the con- 
struction of combs in the hive; others in warm- 
ing the eggs, and feeding the brood ; in attending 
on their queen, to whom they are devotedly 
attached ; in guarding and giving notice of at- 
tacks or annoyance from without ; and the rest 
in searching the fields and woods for the purpose 
of collecting honey and farina for present and 
future store. The working bees are short-lived ; 
and it is shown pretty clearly by Dr. Bevan and 
others, that six or eight months is the limit of 
their duration ; for notwithstanding the im- 
mense annual increase, the numbers in a hive 
dwindle down very perceptibly towards the end 
of the } r ear. Even in the middle of the summer 
their wings become torn and ragged. There is 
no doubt, I think, that every bee existing at 
Christmas was bred during the latter part of the 
spring or summer: and this may be a sufficient 
answer to those who sometimes inquire what 
becomes of the accumulation of bees, managed 
on the depriving system, where neither swarm- 
ing nor destruction takes place. 

We might here allude to a prevalent error as 
to any inherent difference in the characteristics 
of the common honey bee. When we hear it 
said, that some are " better workers" than 
others, all that ought to be understood is, that 
the family has the advantage of being under 
favorable circumstances as to locality or season: 
with a fertile queen, and an adequatepopulation. 


Are computed in the spring at one to two thou- 



sand, and upwards, in every good stock hive. 
They are larger and darker than the common 
bees ; have no sting, and are easily distinguishable 
by their louder humming or droning. The drones 
take no part in the collection of honey, nor in 
any other perceptible operation of the hive. 

Drone eggs are laid by the queen in cells 
larger and stronger than those intended for com- 
mon bees, and further removed from the centre 
of the hive. They pass through their various 
stages in about twenty-five or twenty-six days, 
the drones being seldom seen till about the be- 
ginning of May (though occasionally earlier), 
and then only in warm weather, in the middle of 
the clay. These are the produce of the first-laid 
eggs ; but a second smaller laying of drone eggs 
commonly takes place about two months later. 

Of all the theories on the subject of the part 
allotted to the drones in the constitution of a 
hive of bees (and some of these have been suffi- 
ciently absurd), that of Huber is undoubtedly 
the true one — the impregnation of the young 
queens. Perhaps the annual destruction of the 
drones by the workers, is the operation most 
likely to throw light on the design of their crea- 
tion. This process varies in point of time ac- 
cording to circumstances. Deprive a hive forcibly 
of the young queens, and, according to Bonner 
and Huber, no expulsion of drones takes place. 
" In such cases," says the latter, " they are tole- 
rated and fed, and many are seen even in the 
middle of January." They are retained in case 
of need, for other queens may yet be produced. 
"Where swarming has been rendered unnecessary, 
as in hives managed on the depriving system, 
there are either no royal cells, or the young 
queens meet with premature destruction. Then 
frequently commences an early expulsion of the 
now useless drones; they become merely consum- 
ers of the wealth of the community, and as such 
are driven unceremoniously from the hive, to 
perish; nor are even the larvae allowed to escape. 
This expulsive process often commences in such 
hives in the middle, or at any rate towards the 
end of May, as I have witnessed. On the con- 
trary, in the common swarming hives it does not 
take place till July, or even later ; when all the 
royal brood is disposed of. The circumstances 
differ in the two cases ; and the bees in this, as 
in other parts of their practice, are sufficiently 
utilitarians to modify their proceedings accord- 
ingly. In the one instance, the office of the 
males is hot required, and a speedy massacre 
follows ; in the other, young queens are left suc- 
cessively to come to maturity. Such of these as 
go forth with swarms, become fertilised in two 
or three days after, followed by the laying of 
eggs in about a similar distance of time. Once 
impregnated they become fruitful, perhaps ever 
after, as is the case with some other insects ; at 
all events for a year, for eggs are laid by them, 
and young produced, without the presence of a 
single drone, except during a few weeks in that, 
period. The destruction of the drones, therefore, 
may be considered an indication that the hive 
contains no queen brood, and, consequently, that 
no swarming is to be expected. 

"Naturalists," says Huber, "have been ex- 
tremely embarrassed to account for the number 
of males in most hives, and which seem only a 

burden on the community, since they fulfil no 
function. But we now begin to discern the ob- 
ject of nature in multiplying them to such an 
extent. As fecundation cannot be accomplished 
within the hive, and as the queen is obliged to 
traverse the expanse of the atmosphere, it is re- 
quisite that the males should be numerous, that 
she may have the chance of meeting some one 
of them. Were only two or three in each hive, 
there would be little probability of their depar- 
ture at the same instant with the queen, or that 
they would meet in their excursions ; and most 
of the females might thus remain sterile." 

Conflicting opinions among apiarians have 
been formed, as to the desirableness of assisting 
the working bees in the task of expelling the 
drones; often a protracted and irritating process. 
If it can be done at once, without annoyance to 
the workers, I think much fighting and valuable 
time may be saved by it; but no advice can be 
worse than that of attempting to accomplish the 
work piecemeal. When attacked, the drones, to 
avoid persecution, will congregate together in a 
remote part of the hive. Observation led me to 
think they would at such a time be glad to re- 
treat for still greater safety into a separate box, 
so placed as to be accessible to them. Accord- 
ingly, on the 14th of June, in one of my collateral 
stock hives, where the drones for a day or two 
had been hard pushed by the others, I opened a 
communication on the ground floor into an empty 
side box. My theory was completely realised, 
for the poor drones gladly made their way into 
this, where they remained clustered at the top 
like a swarm — not a single common bee accom- 
panying them, and would probably have been 
starved. The following morning, I took away 
the box of drones and destroyed them, counting 
rather more than 2200, besides some few that had 
escaped. I did not find among them a solitary 
working bee ; nor could I discover in the parent 
stock hive one remaining drone. The bees peace- 
ably at once recommenced work, and did well ; 
as if glad in this wholesale way to be rid of their 
late unprofitable inmates. What was the cost 
of their daily maintenance? And what propor- 
tion to the entire population of the hive did the 
drones bear? After this apparently large ab- 
straction, no sensible difference was observable in 
the crowding. In this hive the usual second 
laying of drone eggs took place, and a good many 
more drones were expelled at the end of July. 
I have not been enabled to repeat this experiment, 
but have no doubt it would always succeed, 
under similar circumstances. 

If we say that the possession of this book 
ought to be universal, we speak but the 
truth. It is the production of a gentleman, 
whose humanity and kindly feeling are vi- 
sible on every page. 


Born and dies in sunny hour, 

The lovely flower 

Of early youth! one moment stay 

The golden ringlets ; then turn grey. 

From Metastasio. 



, and continues his flight till towards 


he business of Bird-catching, which sup- 
ports a vast number of people in the vici- 
nity of London, is founded on the annual 
removals of those singing birds, which are 
termed birds of flight, in the language of that 
art. The metropolis affording a ready sale 
for singing birds, this trade has long been 
established in its neighborhood ; where it 
is carried on at a great expense, and with 
systematical perfection. 

The wild birds begin to fly, as bird-catchers 
term it, in the month of October, and part 
of the preceding and following months. The 
different species of these birds do not make 
their periodical flights exactly at the same 
time, but follow one another in succession. 
The pippet commences his flight, every year, 
about Michaelmas ; the woodlark next suc- 
the middle of October 

It is remarkable, that though both these 
tribes of birds are very easily caught during 
their flight, yet, when that is over, no art can 
seduce them to the nets. It has never hi- 
therto been found what is the nature of that 
call by which the tame birds can arrest their 
flight, and allure them under the nets at 
that particular season, and at no other. 
Perhaps it is from their anxiety to carry the 
tame birds along with them, that these may 
avoid the severity of the winter. Perhaps, 
as the tame birds are males, it is a challenge 
to combat; or it may be an invitation to 
love, which is attended to by the females 
who are flying above, and who, in obeying 
it, inveigle the males, along with them- 
selves, into the net. If the last be the case, 
they are severely punished for their infi- 
delity to their mates ; for the females are 
indiscriminately killed by the bird-catcher, 
while the male is made a prisoner, and sold 
at a high price, for his song. 

The flights of these birds begin at day- 
break, and continue till noon. Autumn is 
the time when the bird-catcher is employed 
in intercepting them on their passage. The 
nets are about twelve yards long, and two 
and a half broad. They are spread upon 
the ground, at a small distance from each 
other, and so placed, that they can be made 
to flap suddenly over upon the birds that 
alight between them. As the wild birds fly 
always against the wind, the bird-catcher 
who is most to the leeward has a chance of 
catching the whole flight if his call-birds be 
good. A complete set of call-birds consists 
of five or six linnets, two goldfinches, two 
greenfinches, one woodlark, one redpole ; 
and, perhaps, of a bullfinch, a yellow- 
hammer, a titlark, and an aberdevine. These 
are placed, in little cages, at small distances 
from the nets. He has likewise his flur -birds, 

which are placed within the net, and raised 
or let down according as the wild birds 

This, however, is not enough to allure 
the wild bird down ; it must be called from 
the cages by one of the call-birds v/hich are 
kept there, and which have been made to 
moult early in the summer, in order to im- 
prove their notes. Pennant observes, that 
there appears a malicious joy in these call- 
birds, to bring the wild ones into the same 
state of captivity. After they have seen or 
heard the approach of the wild birds, which 
is long before it is perceived by the bird- 
catchers, the intelligence is announced from 
cage to cage with the utmost ecstasy and 
joy. The note by which they invite them 
down is not a continual song, like that which 
the bird uses in a chamber ; but short 
"jerks" as they are called by the bird- 
catchers, which are heard at a great distance. 
So poAverful is the ascendency of this call 
over the wild birds, that the moment they 
hear it, they alight within twenty yards of 
three or four bird-catchers, on a spot which, 
otherwise, would never have attracted their 
notice. After the fatal string is pulled, and 
the nets are clapped over the unsuspecting 
strangers, should one half of the flock 
escape, such is their infatuation, that they 
will immediately after return to the nets, and 
share the same fate with their companions. 
And should only one bird escape, the un- 
happy survivor will still venture into danger, 
till he be also caught ; so fascinating is the 
power which the call-birds have over this 
devoted race ! 

All the hens that are thus taken are im- 
mediately killed, and sold for threepence or 
fourpence a dozen. Their flesh is so exqui- 
site, that they are regarded as a delicate 
acquisition to the tables of the luxurious. 
The taste for small birds is however far from 
being so prevalent in England as in France 
and Italy ; and even the luxury of the Ita- 
lians will appear parsimony when compared 
with the extravagance of their predecessors, 
the Romans. Pliny says, that Clodius 
iEsopus, a tragedian of Kome, paid no less 
a sum than six thousand eight hundred and 
forty -three pounds for a single dish of musical 
birds ; an immense tribute to caprice and 
gluttony. The highest price given for these 
singing birds in London is five guineas a 
piece ; a strong proof how much more their 
song is relished here than their flesh. 

We cannot conclude this subject without 
alluding to a most cruel practice which is 
common among the bird-fanciers, in the 
neighborhood of London ; it is the accele- 
ration of the moulting season, and we notice 
it only to deprecate it in the strongest 
terms. The moulting of birds, even when 
left to the operation of nature, is a severe 


malady ; its fatal effects, however, have been 
greatly increased by the interference of 
man, in endeavoring to bestow artificial 
accomplishments on those birds which he 
reduces into captivity for the sake of the 
beauty of their colors, or the melody of their 
song. The bird-catchers, chiefly to gratify 
the whimsical and capricious, have invented 
a method of accelerating the season ; to 
effect this, by which it is pretended, that 
birds are improved both in their song and 
beauty, they shut them up in a dark cage, 
closely wrapped up with woollen cloth, al- 
lowing their dung to remain and increase the 
heat of the cage ! In this state of confine- 
ment, which continues for a mouth, they 
are only now and then supplied with water — 
the putrid air, and the fever which it occa- 
sions, depriving them of all appetite for 
food ! By this violent operation, which is 
termed " stopping" an artificial and prema- 
ture moult is produced, at the expense of 
the lives of many of the ill-fated creatures 
who are subjected to so unnatural a regi- 
men. The price of a " stopped" bird rises 
in proportion to the danger attending it ; for 
it is pretended that its note is not only 
louder and more piercing than that of a wild 
one, but that its plumage is also more vivid 
and beautiful : in short, that there is as 
much difference between a wild and a 
stopped bird, as between a horse kept in 
body- clothes and one at grass. 

We are no advocates for these bruta- 
lities ; we merely record them with a view 
to expose and assist in putting them down. 


Anecdotal BemiziiscenceSi— -ITo. 2. 
By a Lady. 

I remember well, having two cats, who 
were much attached to the person who fed 
them. They knew his ring, and. were always 
at the door to welcome him. He was absent 
three weeks ; and for the first few days, it- 
was really painful to see the anxiety with 
which the poor creatures watched at the 
door ; aye, for hoars, in patient expectation 
of his return, refusing to eat food offered by 
another hand. Nature, however, resumed 
its course. They began to eat ; but every 
time the door-bell rang, they rushed to the 
door expecting to see their friend. After so 
much demonstration of true feeling, we na- 
turally felt anxious to witness the outburst 
of joy at the first meeting. We were doomed 
to be disappointed. Neither of the animals 
would look at their friend ; and they sulkily 
received his caresses with an expression that 
seemed to say : — " You have kept away long 

enough ; you might as well have kept away 
altogether." I was convinced they knew 
him, for one animal is timid, and always 
hides from strangers ; while the other is fond 
of admiration, and courts their attention. 

I sometimes think this peculiarity may be 
traced to a disposition similar to that of the 
Bosjesmans, which makes them look at 
something indifferent, instead of the object 
which really attracts their attention. If I 
see my cat looking fixedly and cautiously to 
the right, I turn to the left, and probably 
see some poor wretch of a cat, crouching 
down with terror — fully aware that his 
enemy has seen him. Put a piece of meat 
and a piece of soap on a table behind you; 
turn round suddenly, and however rapid 
your motion may be, you will find puss with 
her nose close to the soap, as though she 
were earnestly studying its properties. Of 
course, the meat has quite escaped her ob- 
servation ! 

I once had a cat which examined a tube 
of flake -white very attentively, and with 
evident signs of dissatisfaction. On the 
following day, I had occasion to use a por- 
tion of it. Puss had concealed herself on 
the top of a book-case, and must have 
watched my actions with that patient atten- 
tion for which cats are remarkable. The 
moment I proceeded to put a small quantity 
on my palette, she showed the greatest un- 
easiness ; jumped on the table ; mewed plain- 
tively ; and rubbed against me, so as to keep 
my hand which held the tube, at the greatest 
possible distance. 

Finding I persisted in using the noxious 
color, she threatened me with her claws, 
although she had never done so before; and 
I could not proceed with my work until I 
had turned her out of the room. I have had 
several cats since, but none of them ever 
objected to my using this poison. 

Some time after, this same cat was very 
jealous of a kitten, which she never appeared 
to notice unless I found fault with it, when 
she would instantly box its ears. I repeat- 
edly tried the experiment without altering 
my intonation, and always with the same 

One black fellow of a cat understood the 
words "milk," "meat," "buns;" however 
unemphatically they were pronounced in 
ordinary conversation. He had a great re- 
lish for buns in particular, and in whatever 
part of the house he might be, he seemed to 
know- — by some inward sense — when they 
were sent for ; and although, at other times, 
persons went out twenty times a day without 
the animal observing them, yet, whoever 
was sent on this errand, was sure to find 
" Jack " at the door, waiting their return. 

We once had an old cat, who suddenly 
disappeared, leaving a small kitten, which 



we should probably have thought it merciful 
to destroy, had not a young cat, nearly full 
grown, taken on himself the duties of nurse, 
and reared it with the greatest care. When 
the young creature began to eat, the older 
one took to the roof of the house and killed 
a sparrow ; he returned, growling in a tiger- 
like manner, which, as he was naturally 
docile, attracted my attention. When, how- 
ever, he had done so for some time, he aban- 
doned the prey to his protege, who, being an 
apt pupil, imitated his gestures in every re- 
spect — the other watching its gambols most 
complacently. This kitten could afterwards 
open one particular door, or let herself out 
of one of the attic windows, which was fas- 
tened by a catch. We can scarcely suppose 
the animal " gifted " with a special instinct 
to open a particular door or window. 

The most remarkable traits of character 
I have ever observed in the feline tribe, are 
shown in an Angora, which I have had about 
two years. He is remarkably fond of stran- 
gers, particularly if they are good-looking, 
or well dressed. He will strut before them, 
waving his tail, till it looks like a feather. 
He knows Sunday, which he seems to think 
a " dull day." The bell is rung every morn- 
ing at seven o'clock ; and on six days it 
would almost seem as though the man, 
by simply touching the bell-wire, pulled 
" Frank " out of bed — so instantaneously 
does he respond to the summons. But on 
Sunday, bell after bell peals in vain ; he 
knows there is no business to transact, or 
friends to call ; and on that day he seldom 
rises till near noon. He was the most 
gentle, tractable, affectionate creature that 
ever lived, until about three months since. 
At that time, we had an Angora kitten given 
us, and suddenly "Frank's" character 
changed. He became morose; shunned 
society ; would not look at any of us; refused 
to eat ; and would bite and scratch if Ave 
attempted to comfort him. He, however, 
played in the most friendly manner with 
the kitten, and appeared to take great care 
not to hurt it. 

At the end of two months, the kitten was 
taken away suddenly ; and when " Frank " 
wished to play with it, he looked first in the 
basket, and then in a cupboard. Missing 
it, he seemed instantly to know that his 
rival was gone, and resumed his former affec- 
tionate manner. 

All went on happily until a fortnight 
since, when a friend presented two Angoras, 
about a month old. When " Frank " saw 
them, he threw himself on the ground with 
an expression of despair, which seemed to 
say — "I will die! there is nothing worth 
living for." I went to console him, when 
this naturally-gentle creature darted his 
talons into my hand. He is very friendly, 

I should remark, with strangers who have 
not seen the kittens ; but he will not come 
near any of the family, and if I take him 
up, he utters a piteous moan, which ends in 
a tiger-like growl. He never condescends 
to look at the kittens ; nor does he offer to 
injure them. He has always slept near a 
bedroom fire in winter ; but now he is deter- 
mined to lie on the damp stones under the 
cistern, from which we have much difficulty 
in dislodging him. He struggles to escape, 
and we are obliged to carry him off by force ; 
yet, when we do succeed in getting him 
near the fire, he appears perfectly happy . 
In the morning, however, he is as intractable 
as ever, and we do not know how to prevent 
him from killing himself with cold and hun- 
ger, or dying of a broken heart. Does this 
extreme jealousy, Mr. Editor, proceed from 
reason, or instinct? From wounded self- 
love, or blighted affection ? — M. T. 

[Let us leave this as an " open question."] 


Burford's Panorama, 

Mr. Burford has just added a new pano- 
rama to his collection in Leicester Square. 
The view is Nimroud, the scene of Mr. Lay- 
ard's discoveries, and an extensive range 
of the surrounding country. The picture is 
taken from the highest point of the Mound 
of Nimrod, from which the whole of the 
excavations made by Mr. Layard can be 
distinctly traced. Immediately beneath the 
spectator is seen the great northwest palace, 
the most ancient and interesting portion of 
the discoveries yet made ; what is supposed 
to have been the principal facade is fully 
exposed, the two great entrances guarded 
by colossal winged lions, and on either side 
some of the sculptured slabs of alabaster, 
with the figures as fresh as when first cut 
from the block. In other parts of the 
mound are seen numerous trenches, opened 
into others of the palaces which have been 
found there. Further on, are perceptible 
the remains of the city walls, marked by a 
series of elevations, showing where ramparts, 
towers, and gates formerly stood. Beyond, 
in all directions, is seen the plain of Nineveh, 
which in summer and winter is bare, sterile, 
and desolate ; but the view being taken in 
the spring, is here shown fertile and luxu- 
riant. In the remoter distance we trace the 
winding course of the Tigris, with its varied 

There is no place in London, where an 
hour or two could be more profitably spent 
than here. Whilst gazing upon the graphic 
embodiments of Mr. Burford's admirable 
conceptions, you might almost imagine your- 
self at the places represented. This is the 
triumph of Art. 




An iNauiREE.— Your views are correct. We shall, at 
every fitting season, endeavor to " render unto 
Csesar" his due. All animals are equally endowed 
with a useful gift— differing only in degree. In each 
individual there is much to admire. 

H. W. B,— Our space is so circumscribed, that "Fugitive 
Poetry" can only be admissible under very peculiar 
circumstances. We are already overwhelmed with 
similar "kind offerings." This "reply" will suffice 
for all the writers. Their favors have merit, and 
would be readily available in a Monthly Magazine. 

New Subscribers, and Casual Readers, are referred to 
the Leading Article in our First Number for the 
detailed objects of the London Journal : to these 
we shall rigidly adhere. 

Private Letters. — Of these we daily receive such 
immense quantities, that we must really beg the 
writers to excuse our not replying to them. Our time 
is more profitably occupied. All vacancies, as they are 
called, are filled up. Let this general answer suffice. 

Correspondents sending in any "facts" connected with 
Science or Natural History, are requested in every 
case to append their names and places of abode. In no 
instance, however, will their names be published with- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others. — It having been 
deemed expedient, to meet the views of the Trade, that 
this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
tion, Contributors and others will be so kind as to 
bear in mind that they must give us an extra " week's 
grace," and wait patiently till their favors appear. 

All persons who may send in MSS., but which may not 
be " accepted," are requested to preserve copies of 
them, as the Editor cannot hold himself responsible 
for their return. 

To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
need only order it to be sent to them by any of their 
local Booksellers or Newsvendors. It is published 
simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 

Saturday, January 17, 1852. 

An Editor's Letter-box! Did any lay- 
man ever stand by, whilst the Editor of a 
popular journal, after taking from his pri- 
vate pocket the " open-sesame" to his sanc- 
tum, gazed with dismay upon the scene before 
him ? If not, we fear any description, how- 
ever graphic, will fail to give more than a 
very faint idea of an Editor aDd his letter- 

Twice a day, sometimes oftener, is the 
task ours, to call at our publisher's and 
there make an examination of what has 
been dropped into the " lion's-mouth." Al- 
ready the influx of " communications," on 
tinted and satin papers, is alarming; nor 
is the task of perusing them one whit less 
alarming. We have daily fine specimens, 
and very many of them, in round-hand, run- 
ning-hand, and German text ; and some 
recherche specimens of that character of 
writing known as "gentlemanly." This 
last occupies us as much time in getting 
through as all the other united hands put 
together. If our " well-wishers" would be 
so good as to write distinctly, and on one 
side of their paper only, how greatly would 
their favors be enhanced ! 

It is not for us to abuse the confidence 
of our correspondents, and therefore we 

never let any of their " offerings" go beyond 
the precincts of our private room ; but 
really, some of the letters we receive are 
of so marvellous, so curious a nature, that 
it seems a pity the Eccentric Magazine 
should have been discontinued. 

We imagine all new Periodicals must be 
liable to this visitation ; indeed, we remem- 
ber having passed through a similar ordeal 
on some three or four previous occasions. 
We venture a guess, and a shrewd one, that 
these our present would-be patrons, who 
thus haunt usj are but " old friends with a 
new face." 

We have no wish to damp the ardor of 
any aspirants after fame, but we must not 
allow ourselves to be made sponsors for 
the offspring of a heated brain, or to be 
answerable for the mad follies of those who 
will rush wildly into print. In pity to many 
of these scribblers, we have made our 
Christmas fire burn brightly at their ex- 
pense. Known to the flames alone — and to 
the unfortunate Editor of this paper, are the 
contents of a!l these heavy billets. 

We trust that every person who has 
perused our first three Numbers, will now 
be able to see what will and what will not suit 
us. Intending contributors, if they have 
any judgment, will act wisely in economis- 
ing their own time as well as ours, and 
avoid sending us in future such articles as 
can be of no use beyond kindling a fire. 

By the way, we have as yet only hinted 
at our London Letter-Box. W t hat of our 
own private postman ? We see him now, 
with his smiling countenance — making the 
best of his way to our country -villa, with 
another large bundle of letters, which it will 
take us nearly a week to peruse ! W T e must 
therefore quit this important subject, on 
which we intended to be eloquent, and at 
once resume our public task. 


Pigeons.— 1 am about keeping pigeons ; but 
profess ignorance about their habits. Are they af- 
fectionate to their owners, and also to them- 
selves ? And are they (as you are so great an 
observer of Nature) pleasant companions for 
those who love a country life, and are much at 
home? May I ask one or two lines, byway of 
reply to this ? — Amelia L. 

[The habits of pigeons are delightfully agree- 
able. They are so affectionate, if cultivated, 
that they will come on your head, shoulder, or 
lap, and eat from your mouth. They are, more- 
over, more " moral" than most birds. When 
they " pair," it is not with a view t o sepa a in 
the autumn, but their union is " for \ life" — 
with some few exceptions, as with ourselves. 
Both parents assist in making the nest, and re- 
gularly " relieve guard" whilst the trying pro.. 



cess of incubation is going on. The number of 
eggs is two only, for each " sitting;" and when 
the young first break the yolk, and burst into 
life, you will see something " a shade uglier " 
than you have ever before witnessed. Of all 
" monstrosities," a newly-hatched chick is per- 
haps the most monstrous. However, they soon 
outgrow their apparent deformity, and thrive 
wonderfully fast. They are fed carefully by their 
father and their mother; and soon afterwards are 
themselves in a position to feed their own 
children ! This information will suffice for your 
present purpose. We shall not forget to supply 
further particulars anon. Write freely, when 
you want our " advice;" for we shall seek to 
create a lovo for the keeping of domestic 

African Parrot. — I observe a query in your 
last week's paper, having reference to an Aus- 
tralian parroquet, suffering from a tumour. I 
am anxious to observe what remedy will be pro- 
posed for its cure, or removal. Will you, mean- 
time, tell me how to cure my African Parrot? 
It is unwell, cross, dull, mopish ; and refuses its 
food. It has been in this sad state for several 
days. A journal like yours has long been 
wanted ; and allow me, as one of the many, to 
bid you God-speed in your enterprise. — W. S. , 

[The real truth is, these poor creatures are 
martyrs to the changes of temperature in this 
climate of ours. They are never well long to- 
gether; and very seldom "happy." We have 
eschewed all the race, from boyhood upwards ; 
observing, go where we might, that their owners 
were always in distress, and the poor birds look- 
ing as lugubrious as the holder of " a dishonored 
bill for £1,000." Change of air, food, and 
scene, are all we can propose. Try them, until 
we obtain through our pages some more efficient 
remedies ; by all means let the food administered, 
be of the two, rather too dry than too moist.] 

Food for Bullfinches. — Will you please inform 
me how I can keep my bullfinches in fine plu- 
mage? Mine are quite dull, and their bodies 
over-fat. Can I " pair " them with canaries ; if 
so, at what season? — J. T«, Aberdeen. 

[You have ruined the constitution of your 
bullfinches, and quite spoiled their feathers, by 
giving them hemp-seed. They are " fond of it." 
True. We are " fond " of many things, which 
are not " good " for us. Discontinue the hemp- 
seed gradually ; and as a rule, administer flax 
and canary only. The bird's personnel will soon 
exhibit better proportions, and when next he 
moults (if not sooner), his native colors will 
shine out in full lustre. You ask about "pairing" 
these birds with canaries. Do not attempt it. 
You might as well try to arrest the progress of 
" Father Thames," at London Bridge, by throw- 
ing a blanket across the river at "low water." 
You may suspend a canary near his cage, if you 
will, by way of company ; and no doubt they will 
enter into friendship. That friendship, however, 
will be " platonic."] 

Song Birds in England and Ireland. — I rejoice 
to recognise your arrival amongst us, as the 
avowed, the tried friend of all the winged choir 
— of whom you have sung so long, so loud, and 
so sweetly; and, let me add, of whom we shall 
kindly insist upon your " singing " again! You 
are aware, no doubt, that while you are revelling 
in your praises of the nightingale, blackcap, 
woodlark, and redstart — Ave, in Ireland, are 
denied their sweet presence, deprived of the har- 
mony of their melodious voices! How is this? 
By the way, I think it right to tell you that you 
have very many friends in Ireland; who, if they 
cannot hear the birds you " discourse about," 
yet love to read what you say about them. I 
send you my address, and offer you a hearty 
welcome, whenever your steps may be directed 


-J. P., Athlone. 

[Too truly, my good friend, have you said, 
that our " pets" shun your "neutral ground." 
Disturbed as Ireland is by conflicts, which 
" fright " the very inhabitants "from their pro- 
priety," how can the amiable vocalists you have 
named sing their song in so strange a land? If 
we were in the habit of exercising our vocation 
as a "singer" (which we rejoice that we are 
not), rely on it, we should never be able to sing 
in your land. You have seen it recorded, that 
even the " larks " in Ireland are wrcnatural. 
They " try " to sing; but the farmers annihilate 
them by the million, bringing every engine of 
murder they can invent, to riddle holes through 
their little bodies! At the proper season, we 
shall immortalise your proteges, and so aid you 
in the earnest desire you show to hear more of 
their excellencies. Many thanks for the other 
favor, contained in your note. We accept your 
kind offers of aid gladly, and in return will bear 
all your wishes actively in mind.] 

" Instinct and Reason in Animals." — We have 
some little reason to pick a quarrel with you, 
Mr. Editor, for so abruptly terminating the 
popular discussion in the Gardeners' Chronicle, 
on this subject. After promising us that the "last 
chapter" (the most interesting of all) should 
mark " the Progress of Human Reason, from the 
Cradle to the Grave," — a lapse of one week occurs 
without any article appearing aspromised! You then 
wind up the year by saying, that with it "the inquiry 
must terminate, and patience do the rest ! " If 
the space allotted to you was insufficient to admit 
of your completing the series of articles, I do 
think you stand pledged to do so in your own 
paper; and I leave it to yourself to say if the re- 
quest be unreasonable. The care and close reading 
you must have given to the whole matter, deserve 
a better termination. What say you ? May we 
look for it ? I speak the language of very many 
of your admirers, when, on their behalf, I call on 
you to redeem your promise. — W. P., Clifton. 

[You bear rather hard upon us ! Our thoughts 
are now "fugitive," and you ask us to go into 
metaphysics ! However, it shall never be said 
that we broke faith ; and as there was not room 
for the termination of the inquiry in the original 
channel, we will try and collect our thoughts, 
and give them utterance in our own columns 
next week.] 




Cochin China Fowl. — -I have a Cochin China 
cock, 8 months old, who has just fallen ill. 
Can you tell me how to cure him ? He is much 
reduced in flesh, and cannot stand for a minute 
together; but advances a step and then drops on 
his thighs. Still he cats, voraciously. — C. P., 

[Your bird is suffering from atrophy. He 
has also taken the cramp. His limbs are para- 
lised, — no doubt by cold. Feed him generously. 
Try some boiled rice, — boiled hard and dry. 
Give him, also, now and then, a little raw beef; 
and by all means let him have the run of your 
garden. At this season he can do no harm. A 
little toasted bread, soaked in ale, is also a good 
remedy,— anything, indeed, to work a change. 
All animals — ourselves included — need this 
" change " repeatedly, to keep them in robust 


[Third Article.] 

We now subjoin, as promised, the precise 
mode in which Rats may he destroyed by 
Phosphorus ; but we think it right to 
state, that this compound unless very care- 
fully prepared is dangerous. Phosphorus 
should never be handled under any circum- 
stances. It is a fearful agent for evil, in the 
hands of a novice : 

The following was an amateur contribu- 
tion to the Gardeners' Chronicle, March 16, 
1850 ; and the paper bearing that date 
having long since been out of print, its re- 
appearance in our columns will be well- 
timed — we say well-timed, because we are 
daily hearing of the continued ravages by 
Rats in all parts of the country. 

" Rats : their Destruction by Phosphorus 
easy and certain. 

" Having already detailed at some consi- 
derable length in your Paper of Feb. 9, the 
success — I may say the complete success — 
of my experiments in the destruction of a 
colony of rats by the use of carbonate of 
barytes, I will now, according to promise, 
tell jou how to use with unfailing effect, 
under certain circumstances, another fatal 
weapon — phosphorus. I publish this at 
once, and through the medium of your 
columns, for a most particular reason. 

" Very considerable attention has been 
directed to the subject, by the quotation in 
nearly every paper in the kingdom of my 
two -several contributions to the Gardeners' 
Chronicle of Jan, 12 and Feb. 9. This has 
brought me such a multitude of letters — 
every successive post adding to their 
number, and has involved me by conse- 
quence in so extensive and serious a corres- 
pondence ; that I positively begin to despair 
of ever again being in cqnilibrio. I can only 
hope for repose by seeking the aid of the 
press, whose power of extending information 

I can, alas ! but too feelingly vouch for ; 
and which power I trust to their generosity 
again to accord me, seeing the peculiar 
' fix ' in which I am placed. Their timely 
assistance will prevent my having the ne- 
cessity for employing an amanuensis. Mais 
revenons a nos Rats. 

" The phosphoric compound is as follows : 

— I have purposely divided the materials 
into small quantities ; according to the 
number of the enemy to be vanquished they 
must be lessened or increased. Procure of 
lard or dripping a quarter of a pound, of 
phosphorus 1 drachm, of spirit of wine 1 
gill ; place the whole of these in a pint wine 
Dottle, thoroughly cleansed previous to use. 
This should be covered, up to its neck, or 
rather middle, with hot water, which may be 
managed by putting the bottle into a sauce- 
pan deep enough to hold it ; and by gra- 
dually heating the water. 

" When the lard or dripping is dissolved, 
remove the bottle from the water, cork it 
firmly, and shake it until the contents are 
thoroughly incorporated. When cool, pour 
off the spirit of wine. By this time, the 
'charm' will have nearly been 'worked.' 
Little more remains to be done. Procure 
some Wheaten flour, and having rubbed 
sugar into it, warm the contents of the 
' charmed ' bottle, and pour sufficient from 
it to make the whole into a paste of ordi- 
nary consistence. 

" Flavoring the above is the ' seventh 
bullet,' the master-piece. To this, much 
attention must be paid. Get some oil of 
rhodium and some oil of aniseed, both pow- 
erful oils ; and dividing your dough into two 
portions, ' charm' the one half with rho- 
dium, the other with aniseed. The quan- 
tity of oil requisite is very trifling. Having 
made up the paste into a number of small 
globular pieces (like marbles), place them 
carelessly wherever the rats abound, and the 
existence of the latter will soon become a 
mere ' matter of history.' 

" I need only add, that when rats are 
running about, and revelling in an abund- 
ance of animal food, the barytes only must 
be used ; in conjunction with garbage, fish, 
the entrails of rabbits, poultry, &c. These, 
if untouched by the human hand, are subtle 
emissaries, and deal destruction right and 
left. Where, on the contraiy, the rats have 
little to prey upon in the form of flesh — 
phosphorus, cooked as per receipt, will be 
esteemed a dainty luxury, worthy of our 
own Soyer — and they will sit down to it 
with the appetite of a London alderman. 
Would, for their sakes, that their digestion 
were equally good ! I should be glad to 
have it in my power to rat-ify the fact. 

— William Kidd, Sanders' Cottage, New 
Road, Hammersmith, March, 13, 1850." 




There is something in the final appear- 
ance of this season, just as we step from 
Autumn into Winter, that is well calculated 
at all times to excite feelings of a melan- 
choly interest in the reflective mind. The 
garden is rife with homilies on the u wreck 
of matter," and mementoes of mortality are 
abundantly depicted in the withered flower 
and drooping shrub ; whilst the woodlands 
and groves are no less prolific in memorials 
of all things passing to their original dust. 
There is a funereal characteristic about 
autumn which none of the other seasons 
possess : she is the messenger of fruition 
and death ; fruits ripen and flowers wither 
at her approach — nor does this power cease 
until vegetable vitality is subdued and laid 
prostrate. Spring is the season of hope ; the 
first crocus that peeps from beneath its pure 
white mantle of snow is greeted with glad- 
ness, because it is the precursor of brighter 
and more beautiful flowers. Summer is the 
season of buds, blossoms, and fruit ; nature 
then puts on her richest jewellery, and we are 
dazzled with the splendor and the beauty 
of their colors. Autumn is the season of 
plenitude — but then, before we have scarcely 
done gazing at the lovely products of 
Pomona, the " sere and yellow leaf" parts 
from its spray, and, rustling scarcely audible 
along, rests at our feet, warning us to pre- 
pare for another change. It is not, how- 
ever, amidst the fogs and smoke of a London 
atmosphere that this change can be felt. 
Autumn to be appreciated, must be enjoyed, 
some miles from town. The " green and yel- 
low melancholy 1 ' which there steals over the 
landscape, and the mild and steady serenity 
of the weather, with the transparent purity of 
the air, speak not only to the senses, but 
to the heart. There is a silence in which we 
hear everything — a beauty that will be ob- 
served. The cinquefoil, with one lingering 
blossom, yet appears, and we mark it for its 
loneliness. Rambling with unfettered grace, 
the tendrils of the briony festoon with its 
brilliant berries the slender sprigs of the 
hazel and the thorn ; it ornaments their 
plainness, and receives a support its own 
feebleness denies. The agaric, with all its 
hues, its shades, its elegant variety of 
forms, expands its cone sprinkled with the 
freshness of the morning — a transient fair, 
a child of decay, that was born in a night 
and will perish in a night. Anon the jay 
springs up, and screaming tells of danger to 
her brood. Then comes the loud laugh of the 
woodpecker, joyous and vacant — the ham- 
mering of the nut-hatch, cleaving its prize 
in the chink of some dry bough — whilst the 
humble bee, torpid on the disc of the purple 

thistle, just lifts a limb to pray forbearance 
of injury, to ask for peace, and bid us — 

" Leave him, leave him to repose." 

All these are distinctive symbols of the 
season, marked in the silence and sobriety 
of the hour, and have left, perhaps, a 
deeper impression on the mind than any 
afforded by the profuse luxuriance of sum- 
mer, or the verdant promises of spring. 


Br Miss Mitford. 
Chapter I. 

In Belford Regis, as in many of those 
provincial capitals of the south of England, 
whose growth and importance have kept 
pace with the increased affluence and popu- 
lation of the neighborhood, the principal 
shops will be found clustered in the close, 
inconvenient streets of the antique portion 
of the good town : whilst the more showy 
and commodious modern buildings are quite 
unable to compete, in point of custom, with 
the old, crowded localities, which seem even 
to derive an advantage from the appearance 
of business and bustle, occasioned by the 
sharp turnings, the steep declivities, the 
narrow causeways, the jutting-out windows, 
and the various obstructions incident to the 
picturesque, but irregular street-architecture 
of our ancestors. 

Accordingly, Oriel Street, in Belford, a 
narrow lane, cribbed and confined on the 
one side by an old monastic establishment, 
now turned into alms-houses, called the 
Oriel, which divided the street from that 
branch of the river called the Holy Brook, 
and on the other bounded by the market- 
place, whilst one end abutted on the yard of 
a great inn, and turned so sharply up a steep 
acclivity, that accidents happened there 
every day ; and the other terminus wound, 
with an equally awkward curvature, round 
the churchyard of St. Stephen's — this most 
strait and incommodious avenue of shops 
was the wealthiest quarter of the borough. 
It was a provincial combination of Regent 
Street and Cheapside. The houses let for 
double their value ; and, as a necessary con- 
sequence, goods sold there at pretty nearly 
the same rate ; horse-people and foot-people 
jostled upon the pavement ; coaches and 
phaetons ran against each other in the road. 
Nobody dreamt of visiting Belford without 
wanting something or other in Oriel Street ; 
and although noise, and crowd, and bustle, 
be very far from usual attributes of the good 
town ; yet in chiving through this favored 
region on a fine day, between the hours of 
three and five, we stood a fair chance of 

encountering as many difficulties and ob- 
structions from carriages, and as much din 
and disorder on the causeway, as we shall 
often have the pleasure of meeting with out 
of London. 

One of the most popular and frequented 
shops in the street, and out of all manner of 
comparison the prettiest to look at, was the 
well-furnished glass and china warehouse of 
Philadelphia Firkin, spinster. Few things 
are, indeed, more agreeable to the eye, than 
the mixture of glittering cut glass, with rich 
and delicate china, so beautiful in shape, 
color, and material, which adorn a nicely- 
assorted show-room of that description. 
The manufactures of Sevres, of Dresden, of 
Derby, and of Worcester, are really works 
of art, and very beautiful ones too ; and even 
the less choice specimens have about them 
a clearness, a glossiness, and a nicety, ex- 
ceedingly pleasant to look upon ; so that a 
china-shop is, in some sense, a shop of temp- 
tation : and that it is also a shop of necessity, 
every housekeeper, who knows to her cost, 
the infinite number of plates, dishes, cups, 
and glasses, which contrive to get broken in 
the course of the year (chiefly by that grand 
demolisher of crockery ware, called Nobody), 
will not fail to bear testimony. 

Miss Philadelphia's was, therefore, a well- 
accustomed shop, and she herself was, in 
appearance, most fit to be its inhabitant, 
being a trim, prim little woman, neither old 
nor young, whose dress hung about her in 
stiff regular folds, very like the drapery of a 
china shepherdess on a mantel-piece, and 
whose pink and white complexion, skin, eye- 
brows, and hair, all tinted, as it seemed, 
with one dash of ruddy color, had the same 
professional hue. Change her spruce cap 
for a wide-brimmed hat, and the damask 
napkin which she flourished in wiping her 
wares, for a china crook, and the figure in 
question might have passed for a miniature 
of the mistress. In one respect they dif- 
fered. The china shepherdess was a silent 
personage. Miss Philadelphia was not ; on 
the contrary, she was reckoned to make, 
after her own mincing fashion, as good a use 
of her tongue as any woman, gentle or sim- 
ple, in the whole town of Belford. 

She was assisted in her avocations by a 
little shop-woman, not much taller than a 
china mandarin, remarkable for the height 
of her comb, and the length of her ear-rings, 
whom she addressed, sometimes as Miss 
Wolfe, sometimes as Marianne, and some- 
times as Polly, thus multiplying the young- 
lady's individuality by three ; and a little 
shopman, in apron and sleeves, whom, with 
equal ingenuity, she called by the several 
appellations of Jack, Jonathan, and Mr. 
Lamb — mister ! but who was really such a 
cock-o'-my-thumb as might have been served 

up in a tureen, or baked in a pie- dish, with- 
out, in the slightest degree, abridging his 
personal dimensions. I have known him 
quite hidden behind a china jar, and as com- 
pletely buried, whilst standing on tip-toe in 
a crate, as the dessert- service which he was 
engaged in unpacking. Whether this pair 
of originals was transferred from a show at 
a fair to Miss Philly's warehouse, or whether 
she had picked them up accidentally, first 
one and then the other, guided by a fine 
sense of congruity, as she might match a 
wine-glass or a tea-cup, must be left to con- 
jecture. Certain they answered her purpose 
as well as if they had been the size of Gog 
and Magog ; were attentive to the customers, 
faithful to their employer, and crept about 
amongst the china as softly as two mice. 

The world went well with Miss Philly 
Firkin, in the shop and out. She won favor 
in the sight of her betters by a certain prim, 
demure, simpering civility, and a power of 
multiplying herself, as well as her little 
officials, like Yates or Matthews in a mono- 
polylogue, and attending to half-a-dozen 
persons at once; whilst she was no less 
popular amongst her equals, in virtue of 
her excellent gift in gossiping. Nobody 
better loved a gentle tale of scandal to 
sweeten a quiet cup of tea. Nobody evinced 
a finer talent for picking up whatever news 
happened tobe stirring, or greater liberality 
in its diffusion. She was the intelligencer 
of the place — a walking chronicle. 

In a word, Miss Philly Firkin was cer- 
tainly a prosperous, and, as times go, a 
tolerably happy woman. To be sure, her 
closest intimates, those very dear friends, 
who, as our confidence gives them the oppor- 
tunity, are so obliging as to watch our 
weaknesses and report our foibles — certain 
of these bosom companions had been heard 
to hint, that Miss Philly, who had refused 
two or three good matches in her bloom, 
repented of this cruelty, and would probably 
be found less obdurate, now that suitors 
had ceased to offer. This, if true, was one 
hidden grievance, a flitting shadow upon a 
sunny destiny; whilst another might be 
found in a circumstance, of which she was 
so far from making a secret, that it was one 
of her most frequent topics of discourse. 

The calamity in question took the not tin- 
frequent form of a next-door neighbor. On 
the right dwelt an eminent tinman, with his 
pretty daughter, two of the most respectable, 
kindest, and best-conducted persons in the 
town ; but on her left was an open bricked 
archway, just wide enough to admit a cart, 
surmounted by a dim and dingy representa- 
tion of some horned animal, with " The 
Old Red Cow," written in white capitals above, 
and "James Tyler, licensed to sell beer, 
ale, wine, and all sorts of spirituous liquors," 



below ; and clown the aforesaid passage, 
divided only by a paling from the spacious 
premises where her earthenware and coarser 
kinds of crockery were deposited — were the 
public-house stables, cowhouses, and pig- 
sties of Mr. James Tyler, who added to his 
calling of publican, the several capacities 
of milkman, cattle dealer, and pig merchant, 
so that the place was one constant scene ot 
dirt, and noise, and bustle, without and 
within ; this Old Red Cow, in spite of its 
unpromising locality, being one of the best 
frequented houses in Belford : the constant 
resort of drovers, drivers, and cattle dealers ; 
with a market dinner on Wednesdays and 
Saturdays, and a club, called the Jolly 
Tailors, every Monday night. 

Master James Tyler, popularly called Jem, 
was the very man to secure and increase 
this sort of custom. Of vast stature and 
extraordinary physical power, combined with 
a degree of animal spirits, not often found 
in combination with such large proportions, 
he was at once a fit ruler over his four-footed 
subjects in the yard, a miscellaneous and 
most disorderly collection of cows, horses, 
pigs, and oxen, to say nothing of his own 
five boys (for Jem was a widower), each 
of whom, in striving to remedy, was apt to 
enhance the confusion, and an admirable 
lord of misrule at the drovers' dinners and 
tradesmen's suppers, over which he presided. 
There was a mixture of command and good- 
humor, of decision and fun, in the gruff, 
bluff, weather-beaten countenance, sur- 
mounted with its rough shock of coal-black 
hair, and in the voice, loud as a Stentor> with 
which he now guided a drove of oxen, and 
now roared a catch, that his listeners in 
either case found irresistible. Jem Tyler was 
the very spirit of vulgar jollity ; and (\ould, 
as he boasted, run, leap, box, wrestle, drink, 
sing, and shoot (he had been a keeper in his 
youth, and still retained the love of sports- 
manship, which those who imbibe it early, 
seldom lose) with any man in the county. 
He was discreet, too, for a man of his occu- 
pation ; knew precisely how drunk a journey- 
man tailor ought to get, and when to stop a 
fight between a Somersetshire cattle-dealer 
and an Irish pig-driver. No inquest had 
ever sat upon any of his customers. Small 
wonder, that, with such a landlord, the Old 
Red Cow should be a hostelry of unmatched 
resort and unblemished reputation ! 

Matst — being a reasonable, and so a thinking 
creature, there is nothing more worthy of his 
" being" than the right direction and employment 
of his thoughts, since upon this depends both his 
usefulness to the public and his own present and 
future benefit in all respects. — W. Penn. 

Barclay and Perkins. 

Have you ever amused yourself by tracing 
historical parallels? Did you ever note how 
often one age reflects the character of another, so 
that the stage of real life seems to us at intervals 
as a theatre on which we see represented the 
passions of the past, its political tendencies, and 
moniecl speculations ; the only change being that 
of costume, and a wider but more modified me- 
thod of action? So true it is that men change, 
institutions vary, and that human nature is al- 
ways the same. The church reproduces its 
Laud, the railway exchange its Law, the bench 
has its Mansfield, the Horse Guards its greater 
Marlborough, and Newgate its Mrs. Brownrigg. 
We have giants as great as King Charles's por- 
ter, and a Tom Thumb who would have fright- 
ened the very ghosts of all departed Jeffery 
Hudsons — a class not generally accused of fear, 
except at daybreak — by his unequalled diminu- 
tiveness. Take the great questions which agitate 
the church and the senate- house, which agitated 
them in the sixteenth, during much of the two 
following centuries, and you will find the same 
theological, political, commercial, and sanitary 
questions debated with equal honesty, equal 
truth, and similar prospects of satisfactory solu- 
tion. I confess, however, that for one historical 
coincidence I was unprepared ; and that " Barclay 
and Perkins," in the case of assault upon a noted 
public character, should have an historical ante- 
cedent in the seventeenth century, has caused me 
some surprise. It is not necessary for me to 
recall to your attention how Barclay and Perkins 
were noised about on the occasion of the attack 
on General Haynau. The name of the firm was 
as familiar to our lips as their porter: — ■ 

" Never came reformation in a flood 
"With, such a heady currance." 

There had been no similar emeute, as I was 
told by a civic wit, since the days of " Vat Tyler." 
Now let me remind you of the Barclay and 
Perkins and the other Turnham Green men's 
plot, who conspired to assault and assassinate 
King William III. Mind, the coincidence is 
only in name. The historic parallel is rather 
of kind than event, but it is not the less re- 
markable when we consider the excitement twice 
connected with these names. The character of 
James II. may be described as the villainy of 
weakness. It possessed nothing of elevation, 
breadth, or strength. It was this weak obliquity 
which made him deceive his people, and led 
him to subvert the laws, supplant the church, 
and to become a tyrant in the name of religious 
liberty. His means to recover the throne were 
as mean as the manner of its desertion was des- 
picable. He tried cajolery, it failed ; the bravery 
of his Irish soldiers, it was unavailing. He next 
relied on the corruption of Russell, the avarice 
of Marlborough; but as these men were to be 
bought as well as sold, he put his trust finally in 
any villain who was willing to be hired for as- 
sassination. In 1692 M. de Grandval, a captain 
of dragoons, was shot in the allied camp, who 



confessed that King James at St. Germain in 
the presence of the queen, had engaged him to 
shoot King William. Four years later, James 
had contrived another plot. At the head of this 
were Sir George Barclay and Sir William Per- 
kins, and under their guidance twenty men were 
engaged to assist in the assassination- of King- 
William. The plan was as follows: — It was the 
custom of the king to hunt near the house of Mr. 
Latten, in the neighborhood of Brentford, and 
they designed to surprise the king on his return 
at a hollow part of the road between Brentford 
and Turnham Green, one division of them being 
placed behind some bushes and brushwood at 
the western end of the Green. Some of your 
correspondents may perhaps fix the spot ; but as 
the Green extended then far beyond what it now 
does, I suspect it was about the road leading to 
Gunnersbury ; the road itself I recollect as a boy 
seeing much elevated and improved. The design 
failed, two of the gang betrayed the rest — Bar- 
clay escaped, but Perkins and some others were 
hung. Jeremy Collier attended them on the 
scaffold, and publicly gave them absolution in 
the name of Christ, and by imposition of hands, 
for all their sins. I need not describe to you the 
excitement caused by this plot of Barclay and 
Perkins; the event connected with their names, 
as at our later period — 

" Was a theme of all conversation; 
Had it been a pillar of church and state 
Or a prop to support the whole dead weight, 
It could not have furnished more debate 
For the heads and tails of the nation." 

James closed the drama becomingly ; he pub- 
lished a defence of his conduct in a paper, the 
style of which has been well described as the 
"euphemism of assassination." The road be- 
tween Turnham Green and Kew was long after 
associated with the names of " Barclay and Per- 
kins." — S. H. — Notes and Queries. 

"Pickings up and Bettings Down." 

Vegetable Diet.-— As recent discoveries in 
chemistry have shown that vegetables contain 
the same elements as flesh, Ave need not be sur- 
prised that man may live and thrive on a diet 
almost or altogether vegetable. The same gluten, 
albumen, fibrin, and oily matters that exist in a 
beef-steak or mutton-chop are also found in our 
esculent vegetables, the difference only amount- 
ing to a pecularity of taste, or a slight diversity 
in the arrangement of particles. The starch and 
sugar, or the farinacea, are soon manufactured by 
the digestive apparatus into oil, and the albumen 
into animal muscle. Experience proves that a 
vegetable diet is lighter, and less liable to bring 
on diseases, than one in which animal food 
largely prevails. It is affirmed to be equally 
nutritious, and equally capable of sustaining the 
strength even of the hardest-laboring men. We 
have undoubted evidences of this in the robust 
Irishman, fed on potatoes, and the hardy Scot- 
tish peasant, who rarely indulges in a flesh diet. 
Prom a very early period, the philosophers of 
Greece advocated, and even practised, an exclu- 
sively vegetable diet, as being more conducive to 

clearness of intellect and mental activity. The 
Pythagorean sages inculcated the same; hence 
the prevalence of the rice diet over the vast and 
densely-peopled regions of Asia. It is related 
that Newton, while writing his great work on 
optics, lived entirely without animal food; while 
Descartes, Haller, Hufeland, Howard the phil- 
anthropist, Byron, Shelley, and a host of other 
men of genius, were the advocates of a vegetable 
diet. The tendency of a full diet of animal food 
to bring on various complaints — such as gout, 
scurvy, liver disease, and calculous disorders — is 
not more clearly ascertained than that a contrary 
regimen of vegetable food is decidedly efficacious 
in their cure. To children, too, a farinaceous, 
combined with a milk diet, is found by univer- 
sal experience to be that which is least exciting, 
and most conducive to their health and full 
development. — Chambers' Journal. 

Things Lost for Ever. — Lost wealth may 
be restored by industry, — the wreck of health 
regained by temperance, — forgotten knowledge 
restored by study, — aleniated friendship smooth- 
ed into forgetfulness, — even forfeited reputation 
won by penitence and virtue. But who ever 
looked upon his vanished hours, — recalled his 
slighted years,— stamped them with wisdom, — 
or effaced from heaven's record the fearful blot 
of wasted time} — Mrs. Sigourney. 

The Violet. 

A violet blossom' d on the lea, 
Half hidden from the eye, 

As fair a flow'r as you might see ; 
When there came tripping by 

A shepherd maiden fair and young, 
Lightly, lightly o'er the lea ; 

Care she knew not, and she sung 
Merrily ! 

" were I but the fairest flower 
That blossoms on the lea ; 

If only for one little hour, 
That she might gather me — 

Clasp me in her bonny breast! " 
Thought the little flower, — • 

" O that in it I might rest- 
But an hour! " 

Lack-a-day! Up came the lass, 

Heeded not the violet ; 
Trod it down into the grass; 

Though it died, 'twas happy yet ! 
" Trodden down although I lie, 

Yet my death is very sweet — 
For I cannot choose but die 
At her feet T 

London:— Published by George Berger, Holywell 
Street, Strand (to whom all Letters and Communica- 
tions for the Editor, and Books for Review, are to be 
forwarded), and Procurable, by order, of every Book- 
seller and Newsvendor in the Kingdom. 

London ; Myers & Co., Printers, 22, Tavistock Street, Co vent Garden. 


Conducted by WILLIAM KIDD, of Hammersmith,— 

Author of the Familiar and Popular Essays on "Natural History;" "British Song 

Birds;" "Birds of Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" 

" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c. 

"the OBJECT of our work is to make men WISER, WITHOUT obliging them to turn over folios and 


No. 4.— 1852. 


Price l^d. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price Id. 


It has been our good fortune to originate, 
in the columns of the Gardeners' Chronicle 
Newspaper, a most interesting inquiry into 
" Animal Instinct ; " an inquiry which occu- 
pied some nine weeks in its discussion, and 
which was then, from a want of space, 
abruptly terminated. 

It seems, however, that the Public will 
not let the matter be thus hastily disposed 
of; and we are called upon to redeem the 
pledge given, for the due consideration of 
the " difference" between " Instinct" and 
" Reason." 

We had imagined our task completed — 
indeed, the subject had fled our memory. 
But as it is expected of us to fulfil "a pro- 
mise given," we have collected our ideas, 
and compressed them into A final chapter. 
We admit that the former nine chapters 
would have been incomplete, without such 
an addendum.* 

The view we have already taken of the 
subject of Instinct, as allotted to divers 
members of the feathered and other tribes, 
has been, with some few anticipated excep- 
tions, universally approved. Our great and 
unceasing endeavor has been, to draw a line 
between the supposed equality (differing only 
in degree) of the brute creation and Man ; 
and to show that how "intelligent" soever 
certain animals might be, yet were they 
not to be classed by any means whatever 
among " reasonable," and therefore, respon- 
sible beings. We have given such abundant 
reasons for this, that it were idle for us to 
pursue such an inquiry any further. 

* We have observed, not without surprise, hut with 
even greater pleasure, the very liberal extracts from 
these "Treatises on Instinct and Reason" that have 
been transferred to the columns of nearly all our Public 
Journals, London and Provincial— and from them into 
the American Newspapers. We cannot surely err, if we 
draw an inference from this, that the " principle" at all 
events, which we have advocated, is a " correct" as 
well as a widely-popular one. 

We have dwelt much on the fact — a 
beautiful provision of Nature — of many 
" irrational " animals being rapidly brought 
to maturity. Thus young birds at a week 
old are, comparatively speaking, far more 
advanced than a child at four years. They 
eagerly listen to every passing sound, and 
eagerly watch the slightest signal given 
them by their parents. They lie snug and 
quiet when danger is hinted to them, and, 
in a fortnight, are prepared to quit their 
cradles, and see the world ! Herein is again 
seen the benignant, providential hand of 
Nature. We need not recur to this : but 
it leads us to speak of the remarkable con- 
trast presented in infancy by the human 

For a miserable, helpless, imbecile, 
wretched, and ugly creature, commend us to 
a newly -born infant ! We contend, and love 
the principle, that he is " born" so for a 
special purpose — to mark his extreme de- 
pendence, and/ws perfect inability to assist him- 
self in any one particular. For how many long 
and tedious weeks, by day and by night, does 
his fond, anxious mother watch over him ! 
What doubts, what fears, what misgivings, 
pass through her affectionate, active, and 
devoted mind, during the long season of her 
midnight watchings, and daily deliberations ! 
And what tardy, what distant approaches 
are there here, to anything like " Reason !" 
Gaze on the child's face, catch his eye (if 
you can) and watch his paste-like counte- 
nance. The face is helplessly vacant, the 
eye wandering and meaningless, and the 
countenance almost idiotic. And so things 
go on for a very long period. The " curtain" 
may drop here. 

When the infant emerges from babyhood 
to childhood, and his eye first becomes at- 
tracted by a glittering toy, or other bauble, 
then comes " hope " to the parent's relief. 
She watches first, with breathless anxiety, 
to see if her child can " hear." She has 
already ascertained that he can "see." And 
when, for the first time, the string of his 

Vol. I. — New Series. 

tongue is loosed, and lie is heard to splutter; 
presently to utter some silly word, on a small 
scale —such as " Ta !" — then is his mother's 
joy complete ! And now, her boy plays ; 
and not only plays, but smiles ! What a 
smile ! Say ye who are mothers, aye, or 
fathers, was ever smile like to that on the 
innocent brow of your first-born ? 

" Behold yon rosy baby ' play;' 

On his bright face the smile how fair ; 
'Tw'd seem that golden sunbeams stray 

From Heaven, — their home, to linger there. 
Yet plays that baby not alone — 
An Angel's wing is round him thrown !" 

Some difference is there here between a 
" Man " and a " Beast !" Let us cherish 
and adore the thought. These things may, 
on a cursory view, appear ridiculous. But 
are they so ? By no means ! What we have 
now given in outline, is being filled up in 
detail, at this very instant, by many millions 
of little units in this lower world of ours. 
All of us have passed through a similar 
state of helpless existence ; and we record 
it, to show how different in eve?\i/ way are 
WE from the brute creation. This is, I 
think, " proven." 

Now, mark the progress of the child. 
What at first is almost imperceptible by him, 
soon begins to attract his sight. He gets a 
toy ; pulls it about ; turns it over and over ; 
and finally (for that is the upshot) tries to 
break it — to see how it is made. These pur- 
suits, by daily practice, give him pleasure, 
awaken his curiosity. When one toy is 
broken, he cries for another ; and again he 
essays, by breaking it, to see how that, too, is 
made. Thus do reason and inquiry first 
become engendered in the dawning of the 
mind. It is at this early period that the 
child's future career may be said to " have 
its foundation laid ;" for with some people 
(we can ourselves date our first recollections 
from the time we numbered five years) the 
events of their early childhood live in active 
remembrance, ineffaceable throughout their 
entire existence. We do not, be it known, 
set ourselves up for " moralists," but let us 
hope that a word of advice by way of " pre- 
cept," en passant, may be pardoned us. Tis 
now that 

il Infant reason grows apace, and calls 

For the kind hand of an assiduous eare." 

Now, touching the progress of Reason, let 
some of us who have the honor to be the 
happy parents of good, intelligent, and pro- 
perly-inquisitive children, remember when 
on emerging from the nursery, and " coming 
down stairs into the drawing-room," each 
duodecimo of humanity has put us on our 
metal to answer certain pertinent questions 
— all arising from "thought," and the due 

exercise of reason. Have we not, let me ask, 
been puzzled, times out of number, to give 
a fitting reply to a natural and logical — 
sometimes a theological question ? This 
then shows decisively, that where proper 
attention is paid to early education, and the 
encouragement of youthful inquiries after 
truth, knowledge is progressive. It is not 
innate — not hereditary (as in the brute crea- 
tion), but acquired ; and always thirsting for 
still deeper draughts from the fountain head. 
Therein then, in a few words, for Ave must 
be brief, consists the precise difference be- 
tween Instinct and Eeason. If we were to 
adduce ten thousand other " parallels," we 
could prove nothing more satisfactorily. 
There can be no doubt that the supreme 
intelligence made every living thing Avith 
the capacity for enjoying itself. The brute 
creation, Ave must all knoAv, is essentially 
" happy ; " and Ave mortals, if unhappy, are 
the sole cause of our OAvn unhappincss ! 

" Natura beatis 

Omnibus esse dedit ; si quis cognoverit uti." 

When, therefore, happiness eludes our 
grasp, let us not blame fate, or reproach one 
another ; but acknowledge at once that Ave 
have sought her in an improper manner. 
Most of our unhappy moments are attribu- 
table to what Avith care might, and ought to 
have been prevented. 

As regards the structure of the human 
frame, the brain, more particularly — a 
"study" for all eternity — it is worthy of 
intense admiration and wonder. It is far 
more liable, however, to derangement than 
is the brain of animals generally. Hence it 
has been said, that madness is a " privi- 
lege (!) " peculiar to human nature. It is 
quite clear, that from over study, undue 
excitement, malformation of the brain, neg- 
lected education, and other causes, madness 
and eccentricity are noAv very rife amongst 
us. It is indeed a harrowing sight, whilst 
passing through our various asylums, to ob- 
serve the morbid workings of a lunatic's 
mind, and to gaze upon the many Avrecks of 
humanity doomed to end their Avretched 
lives there ! More still is there to marvel 
at, Avhen you behold a man cum ratione in- 
sanire — Avhen, as Festus said, " much learn- 
ing hath made him mad." Dr. Winslow 
gives us some extraordinary instances of the 
aberrations of sensible men, and his remarks 
afford food for much reflection. He tells us, 
inter alia, that " very many minds endowed 
Avith robust and splendid qualities cherish 
some Avild and baseless belief, are haunted 
by superstitious fears, or are the unresisting 
victims of delusion. The confessionals of 
medical men declare the fact, that the pre- 
sence of signal and unequivocal eccentricity 



and hallucination is compatible with the ex- 
ercise of sound judgment and brilliant fancy, 
Avith the faithful discharge of vast responsi- 
bilities, and with the external characteristics 
of perfect sanity. The calm, contemplative 
mathematician and satirist, Pascal, rested 
for years on the brink of an imaginary gulf ; 
the adventurous warrior who hewed his way 
to the throne of Sweden, was daunted and 
diverted from his stern purpose by an appa- 
rition in a red cloak ! Extreme cases are 
recorded where men have been accompanied 
by a skeleton, step by step of their course ; 
where a gory head has crossed the gaze of 
the impassioned orator ; where one horrible 
thought recurring periodically has haunted 
its victim to despair and death ; but instances 
are constantly met with where individuals 
carry into ordinary intercourse and active 
life, tendencies to destroy children; grotesque 
convictions that their frame is tenanted by 
unclean beasts ; that they are infected by 
foul diseases ; that their passions are acted 
upon by the will of others ; and extravagant 
fancies that the future is opened up to them, 
that they enjoy communion with unseen 
beings ; that they see, and hear, and deal 
with objects hidden from common observa- 

We have dwelt upon these particulars, 
with a view to shew how needful it is to 
endeavor to preserve the mens sana in cor- 
pore sano — not to tax the mind overmuch, 
nor labor to accomplish more than our mental 
powers can compass. " To be forewarned, is 
to be forearmed." The motto of every pru- 
dent man should be — " Ne quid nimis." 

Let us now close this truly interesting 
inquiry, during the progress of which I have 
received much encouragement from all quar- 
ters. It is, I readily admit, " difficult " in 
some cases, to draw a line, and say "where 
instinct ceases and reason begins. But as 
our argument has been throughout based on 
a sound principle, which prevails by an 
" universal law " — that none can set aside, 
our triumph is, as far as it can be so, complete. 

The " talent " given to the brute, or irra- 
tional creation, is always turned to good 
account ; whereas the " talent " given to us, 
the rational part of the community, is too 
often neglected, and " hid away in a napkin." 
Let us, however, conclude with " a moral " 
that concerns us all, individually; — "To 
whom much is given, of Mm will there be 


The Snowdrop. 


The Snowdrop is the herald of the flowers, 
Sent with its small white flag of truce, to plead 
For its beleaguer' d brethren ; suppliantly 
It prays stern Winter to withdraw his troops 
Of winds and blustering storms. 

The Naturalist ; a Popular Monthly Maga- 
zine of the Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral 
Kingdoms. January, 1852. 

We have already directed special atten- 
tion to the varied and interesting contents 
of the first ten numbers of this well-con- 
ducted Periodical. The number for the 
New Year gives evidence of increased energy 
and vigor, and is replete with singular and 
curious anecdotes having reference to birds 
and animals. 

In No. 1 of the London Journal we 
took occasion to expose Mr. Smee's error, in 
asserting that the eyes of the Mole were 
useless, and not made to give him sight. 
We observe two other corroborations of our 
remarks, in the Naturalist. We copy the 
remarks of both writers on the subject, as it 
is important to correct any mis-statement 
that might go forth to the prejudice of 
Nature's handiwork. The first letter is by 
J. B. Davies, Esq., of Edinburgh, — the 
second by H. K. Creed, Esq., of Christ's 
College, Cambridge. 

The Mole. — With regard to Mr. Smee's as- 
sertion, quoted in " The Naturalist " of Novem- 
ber, by Mr. Hannaforcl, that the Mole is without 
eyes, I have to state, from personal observation, 
that it is incorrect. In the summer of last year, 
accompanied by an artistic friend, I was scramb- 
ling among the rocks to the north ofDuddingston 
Loch here, in search of Asplenium septentrionale, 
etc., when my companion announced the disco- 
very of the hind quarters of some animal sticking 
up from among a heap of loose rubbish ; it turned 
out to be a Mole, which we captured, brought 
home, and kept alive in my room for three days. 
His temporary habitation was an old tea chest, 
half-filled with earth, and fitted on the top with 
glass, through which we could observe his habits. 
A quantity of worms were mixed with the mould, 
in order to afford a supply of food ; and if Mr. 
Smee had seen him dart across the box after one 
of his poor victims, I think he would not have 
denied him the benefit of sight. I may further add, 
that he evidently took notice of objects placed 
in his path, before approaching close to them, and 
rapidly dived beneath the earth when the hand 
or any other obstacle w r as placed before him. As * 
to there being no eyes, or " sockets in the skull 
to receive eyeballs," I can only say that on the 
dissection of our subject, with the assistance of a 
medical friend, we were fully satisfied of the ex- 
istence of both. I believe, however, that the 
range of vision in the Mole is very limited ; for 
he took no notice of us so long as we kept at the 
outside of his box, but nibbled away at his repast 
with great gusto. A fact which appeared to me 
to be interesting, and which I had never seen 
recorded, came under my observation at the 
same time ; that is, that my prisoner positively 
refused to take a bite, unless he had the worm 
end way in his mouth. 

The Mole. — Having lately been carefully ex- 

amining the eyes of the Common Mole, (Talpa 
vulgaris), and the parts connected with them, I 
find, (contrary to Mr. Smee's assertion in his 
"Instinct and Reason," that the " little black tu- 
bercles," -which are seen on turning aside the 
hair on each side of the head, have each an optic 
nerve, communicating with the brain. 

On dissecting the head of a Mole, a few days 
since, I found two nerves connecting the eye 
with the brain; one of these is the optic nerve, 
and the other the second branch of the fifth 
pair of nerves. 

If a Mole's skull is examined with attention, 
three small holes will be found, some way further 
back than the eye; through the largest of these 
pass the optic nerve, and the second branch of 
the fifth pair of nerves. The two others are very 
minute, but through them pass the olfactory and 
maxillary nerves, and those connected with the 
ear which is very large. There are no sockets 
in the skull for the eye, but it is situated in a 
mass of muscle. 

I kept one alive for some days in the spring 
of 1848. When I was near enough for him to 
see me, he was uneasy, and tried to bury him- 
self in the mould I had put in his box ; and when 
I dropped a worm in, he immediately made for 
it, and devoured it rapidly. 

There are also some more curious "facts 1 ' 
about the " cuckoo " in this number ; which 
fully corroborate all our recent remarks 
about that singular bird. Of these anon. 

A History of British Birds. By the Rev. 
F. 0. Morris, B.A. Part XX. 

A Natural History of the Nests and Eggs of 
British Birds. By the same Author. 
Part I. 

The " History of British Birds " progresses 
well. The illustrations are as admirably 
drawn as they are colored. They represent 
three several descriptions of the Martin ; and 
the Pied Wag-tail. The letter-press de- 
scriptions exhibit the usual care and minute 
correctness of the author, and stamp a value 
on the Work. 

The "Nests and Eggs of British Birds," is 
a new serial altogether. It has commenced 
right well, and promises to be a truly valu- 
able as well as inexpensive monthly publica- 
tion. All our readers should take it in. 
The eggs are admirably figured and colored. 

As this is likely to be an important work, 
we copy the Rev. Author's " Address to the 
public," in full. It promises much : — 

It is impossible for any one undertaking a pub- 
lication of the present nature, to have been more 
singularly favored than I have been, in a way 
which at once removes one of the greatest dif- 
ficulties attendant on it. William Eichard Fisher, 
Esq,, of Yarmouth, has, in the most handsome 
and obliging manner, placed at my service, for 
this work, his original drawings of the Eggs of 
British Birds; executed by him some years since, 
in the most perfect, elaborate, and scrupulously 

careful manner that can be imagined. I am per- 
fectly confident that there is not in existence in 
the country, anything of the kind approaching 
to this amateur work in excellence; and if my 
attempt to convey to the following pages some- 
thing of the genuineness which he has imparted 
to his drawings, fails, it most certainly ivill not be 
from defect of any kind whatever in the materials 
at my hand. 

The repeated and very earnest requests that 
have been made to me, to publish a work on the 
" Nests and Eggs of British Birds," is responded 
to under the most favorable circumstances that 
could exist; and I have less hesitation in making 
the attempt, from feeling the weight of the argu- 
ment which he has used—that the "History of 
British Birds " would be incomplete without it. 
'•Ab ovo usque ad mala.' 

The Country House ; No. 2. — The Piggery. 
12mo. C. Knight. 

We gave an outline in the first number of 
our London Journal, of this very useful 
series of popular Treatises ; and mentioned 
that the second portion of them would relate 
to " The Piggery." It is now before us. 

Like the "Poultry Yard," it is compiled with 
extreme care and with a perfect knowledge 
of the subjects treated of. Hence its great 
practical value to all who keep pigs for the 
sake of profit, or for the economical benefit 
of their own family consumption. 

The hog is an animal of which we know 
comparatively little, because he does not 
often cross our path. When AVE claim an 
acquaintance with him, it is when lie has 
gone through sundry transmigrations. We 
meet him at dinner, in the form of a splendid 
ham ; again, at breakfast, in the delicious 
" relish " of some thin streaky slices of bacon, 
crisped, curled, and " tempting " to the 
palate. In divers other shapes, too, does he 
greet our vision, and agreeably "provoke" 
our olfactory organs ; and in all of them he 
is a welcome visitor. Who of us is there, 
ignorant of the savor of a " Bath chap ?•" 

It would be mere affectation, after this 
avowal, w r ere we to treat him slightingly, or 
speak of him as a disgusting object. By no 
means is he such ; and we strongly commend 
this most interesting little volume for an en- 
lightened description of his history, pedigree, 
progress, and present state. It is admirably 
illustrated with engravings of the various 
tribes, and full of judicious advice for their 
proper treatment, and cure when ill. 

As it is not unlikely we may return to 
this book at a future period, we will now 
only make a passing extract, showing the 
fertility of swine. The author says : — 

Having trenched upon the subject, we may ad- 
vert to the principles upon which breeding of swine 
should be conducted. Two great objects arc in 
view, fertility and early fattening. With respect 
to fertility, we rather advocate moderation than 
excess, both on account of the strength and 



health of the mother, and the improvement of 
her progeny from a full supply of nutriment. 
How long a sow should be kept for breeding, 
depends on eircumstanees ; generally speaking, 
however, after three or four years the most fruit- 
ful sows, exhausted in their productive energies, 
evince a great falling off both in the number and 
vigor of their young. There are, however, ex- 
ceptions, and of these one is recorded by Gilbert 
White, in Letter lxxv. 

"The natural term of a hog's life," he says, 
"is little known, and the reason is plain — because 
it is neither profitable nor convenient to keep that 
turbulent animal to the full extent of its time; 
however, my neighbor, a man of substance, who 
had no occasion to study every little advantage 
to a nicety, kept a half-bred bantam sow, Avho 
Avas as thick as she was long, and whose belly 
swept the ground, till she was advanced to her 
twentieth year, at which period she showed some 
symptoms of age by the decay of her teeth and 
the decline of her fertility. 

" For about ten years this prolific mother pro- 
duced two litters in a year, of about ten at a time, 
and once above twenty at a litter; but as there 
were nearly double the number of pigs to that of 
teats, many died. From long experience in the 
world, this female was grown very sagacious and 
artful. At the age of about fifteen, her litters 
began to be reduced to four or five; and such a 
litter she exhibited when in her fatting pen. She 
proved Avhen fat, good bacon, juicy and tender; 
the rind or sward was remarkably thin. At a 
moderate computation, she was allowed to have 
been the fruitful parent of 300 pigs — a prodigious 
instance of fecundity in so large a quadruped ; 
she was killed in spring, 1775." Generally 
speaking, it is most advantageous to allow the sow 
to breed only two or three years, and her succes- 
sors being ready, to fatten her off for the knife. 

We have seldom seen more ''tact" ex- 

hibited than in the construction of this book. 
Not only has the author rendered it read- 
able ; but by much research and pleasant 
annotation he has given it an interest that will 
cause it to be widely diffused. The pig is 
an " unclean beast," we admit ; but "dressed" 
as he is here, we are unwilling to say aught 
that is evil of him. On the contrary, in the 
circulation of this volume, which so ably sets 
forth his just praises, we hope all our friends 
will "go ^the whole hog." This will enable 
them "to cut, and — come again ! " 


In a recent number of Dickens' House- 
hold Words, there is a long, interesting, and 
graphic description of " The Art of Catch- 
ing Elephants," in Ceylon. Although it will 
no doubt have been read by admiring thou- 
sands, still there are certain fragments of it 
that are admirably adapted for finding " a 
nook and corner" in a Treasury like ours ; 
and we detach them, to gem our anecdotal 
pages. The star will not be missed from 
the firmament whence it has strayed. We 

should premise that a herd of Elephants 
are approaching near to the spot where the 
party who are about to capture them lie 
concealed. Death- like silence prevails ; and 
the heavy fall of the Elephants 1 huge feet 
among the brushwood, announces that " they 
come !" — 

At last, (says the narrator) there was no 
mistake about it, they were close upon us. Our 
anxiety and curiosity became intense. The tear- 
ing and trampling amongst the jungle was 
deafening. Giant bamboos and branches of trees 
appeared to be snapped asunder by the on- 
coming herd, like so many walking sticks — in 
a way, in short, which made me tremble for the 
strength of the Kraal, and of our own elevated 

But there was little time for reflection of any 
kind. A shot or two was fired in the rear of the 
advancing herd, followed by a trampling of the 
leading elephant. The moon at that moment 
began to peep over the distant range of low hills ; 
and, by its faint light, I could distinguish the 
low jungle bending and giving way on every side, 
and amongst it sundry huge black forms rushing 
about in savage disorder, like mountain masses 
upheaved by some convulsion of nature. The 
two decoys entered the inclosurc at a brisk but 
steady trot, and stationed themselves under the 
clump of trees, without any notice being taken 
of them ; indeed, one of them nodded knowingly 
to the Corale near him, as much as to say, " It's 
all right, old fellow !" On came the wild ele- 
phants at a thundering pace, tearing and bending, 
and smashing everything before them ; trumpet- 
ing and roaring at full pitch. In another 
moment they were within the boundaries of 
our fortress. 

Never shall I forget the wild, strange beauty 
of that uproarious moment. The moon was now 
shining sufficiently on the Kraal to light up the 
more open parts of it ; away under the deep 
shade on one side, could be seen a dense moving- 
mass of living creatures; huge, misshapen, and 
infuriated, trembling with rage and fatigue 
Lighted chules were gleaming thickly, like fire- 
flies, amidst the neighboring jungle. Felled trees 
and rope barred up the narrow way, forming 
one monster gate ; whilst busy groups of vil- 
lagers, white wands in hand, moved to and fro, 
and watched the furious herd. More lights were 
brought to the front, and a blazing fire was 
kindled outside the entrance, which whilst it 
served to light up the. whole of the Kraal, de- 
terred the savage strangers from attempting 
anything in that direction. 

It was soon evident that the prisoners were 
not going to take matters very quietly. Two of 
the stoutest of their number slowly advanced 
and examined the Avails, to see where an open- 
ing might most easily be forced. And noAv Ave 
were not less astonished than delighted at the 
use made of those tiny Avhite Avands which had 
before served only to raise our contempt. When- 
ever the two elephant spies approached the 
jungle-Avails of their prison, they Avere met by 
one or tAvo villagers, avIio gently Avaved before 
them little snow-white switches ; and, lo ! as 
if by some spell of potent forest magic, the 



beasts turned back, shrinking from contact with 
the little wands. Point after point was thus 
tried, but all in vain ; the snowy magic sticks 
were thick within the jungle, and silently beat 
back the advancing foe. 

While the two scouts were thus engaged on 
their exploring expedition, the tame elephants 
approached the remainder of the herd, and 
walked slowly round them, shaking their shaggy 
ears, and waving high in air their curling 
trunks, as though they would say, " Move at 
your peril." One of the captives, a somewhat 
juvenile and unsophisticated elephant, ventured 
to move from the side of its maternal parent, to 
take a survey of our stand, when tame elephant 
Number One went up to the offender, and sent 
him back with an enormous flea in his ear ; 
tame elephant Number Two bestowing at the 
same moment a smart tap on the skull. 

Busier work was at hand. The scouts, evi- 
dently disgusted with the result of their opera- 
tions upon the outworks, appeared to be preparing 
for a sortie, and treated with the most reckless 
levity the admonitory taps of the elephant 
policemen; which however seemed to be far 
less unpleasant to them than a tickle on the 
snout from one of the pigmy white wands. It 
was plain that they intended to carry their ob- 
ject by a coup de trunk ; but a score of rifles 
peered forth. The ladies shut their eyes, and 
stopped their ears : an elderly gentleman, at my 
elbow, asked, in a tremulous whisper, " what the 
guns were for ? " The inquiry was replied to by 
a loud trumpeting from one of the pair of rebels 
— a harsh screaming roar, like the hollow sound 
of a strained railway whistle, very much out of 
repair. We had scarcely time to look at the 
poor brute creating this disturbance, when we 
heard the sharp crack of a dozen rifles around 
us — so sharp indeed, that our eyes blinked 
again. Down tumbled one of the monsters, 
with thick torrents of hot, savage blood, pouring 
from many a wound about his head and neck. 
His companion was not so easily disposed of, 
though badly wounded. Lifting his enormous 
trunk in the air, and bellowing forth a scream of 
defiance, he made a rush at the jungle-wall. 
The two elephantine policemen, who had been 
narrowly observing his proceedings, then cut in 
between him and the ramparts, and succeeded in 
turning him from his purpose ; but only to cause 
him to renew his fierce attack upon another part 
of the defences. He rushed, at full speed, upon 
the part where our stand was erected, screaming 
and tearing up the earth, and lashing his great 
trunk about him, as a schoolboy would a piece of 
Avhipcord. I felt alarmed. It seemed as though 
our frail tenement must yield at the first touch 
from the mighty on-coming mass of flesh, bone, 
and muscle. Ladies shrieked and fainted by the 
dozen: gentlemen scrambled over each other 
towards the stairs, where a decidedly downward 
tendency was exhibited. I would have given a 
trifle, just then, to have taken the seat occupied 
the day before by the Judge or the Collector, 
high amongst the branches. But in much less 
time than I take to relate it, the furious animal, 
smarting under many bullet wounds, had reached 
the verge of our stand, heedless of the cracking 
of rifles, whose leaden messengers flew round his 

head and poured down his shoulders, harmless 
as peas. One last crack, and down the monster 
fell, close at our feet. That shot was the work 
of a mere lad, the little son of a Kandian corale; 
who, coolly biding his time, had fired his piece 
close at the creature's ear. Leaping from his 
place, the urchin flung aside his long tapering 
rifle, and drawing forth his girdle-knife, severed 
the elephant's tail from the carcase, as his just 

These two having been disposed of, and a 
degree of calm restored, the general attention 
was directed toAvards the herd, which still re- 
mained in their original position. For a time 
fear seemed to hold them motionless ; but when 
the extremity of their danger rose before them, 
a number of the boldest made a desperate rush 
at the entrance, but were easily turned back, 
when the watchers stirred up the great guard- 
fire, whilst, from other parts of the Kraal, they 
were soon repelled by an application of white 
wands. In this way a good hour was spent, at 
the end of which time the creatures appeared to 
give up the idea of any further aggressive pro- 
ceedings, and remained subdued and calm. 

A dangerous task had still to be performed 
—that of securing the best of the herd for 
taming. Half-a-dozen of the most active and 
skilful of the villagers crept slowly and care- 
fully towards the frightened group ; each 
having a long stout cord of jungle-rope in his 
hand, with a running noose at one end of it. 
With stealthy cat-like steps, these daring fellows 
went amongst the herd, making some of us 
tremble for their safety. Each of them selected 
one of the largest and strongest of the group, 
behind which they crept ; and, having arranged 
the "lasso" for action, they applied a finger gently 
to the right heel of their beast, who feeling the 
touch as though that of some insect, slowly raised 
the leg, shook it, and replaced it on the ground. 
The men, as the legs were lifted, placed the 
running nooses beneath them, so that the ele- 
phants were quietly trapped unknown to them- 
selves, and with the utmost ease. The men now 
stole rapidly away with the ends of the ropes, 
and immediately made them fast to the ends of 
the nearest trees . These ropes, however, were 
far from being sufficiently strong to hold an ele- 
phant who might put out his strength. It was 
therefore necessary to secure them still further, 
but by gentle means. The two tame elephants- 
were then placed on active service; they were 
evidently perfectly at home, and required no 
directions for their work. Walking slowly up 
to the nearest of the six captured animals, they 
began to urge him towards the tree to which he 
was fastened. At first the creature was stubborn ; 
but a few taps on his great skull, and a mighty 
push on his carcase, sent him a yard or two 
nearer his destination. As he proceeded, the 
man in charge of the rope gathered in the slack 
of it; and so matters went on between this 
party — a tap, a push, and a pull — until at length 
three of the elephants were close to the tree. 
Two other villagers then came forward with a 
stout iron chain. The tame animals placed them- 
selves one on each side of their prisoner, pressing 
him between them so tightly as to prevent the 
possibility of his moving. In a minute or two 



the jjreat chain was passed several times round 
the hind legs and the tree ; and, in this way the 
captive was left: helpless and faint with strag- 
gling-. The other five wore similarly treated. 
After which our party dispersed, pretty well tired, 
and quite prepared for hod. 

Early next morning I paid a visit to the 
Kraal alone; my friends were fairly worn out. 
The remainder of the elephants had been either 
shot or had forced their way out in one or two 
places. The six captured animals were quiet 
— as well they might be, after their long fast, and 
incessant struggling. Towards the end of that 
day, a very small portion of food was supplied 
to them, just sufficient to keep them alive. In 
this way they were to remain for a week or two, 
when, if found sufficiently reduced in strength 
and temper, they were to be walked about, 
fastened between two tam*i companions, who 
assisted very effectually in their daily education 
— not, perhaps, in the most gentle and polite 
manner, but still much to the purpose. 

At the end of two or three months, the wild 
and unruly destroying monster of the jungle 
might be seen quietly and submissively piling 
logs of ebony in the Government timber-yards, 
with a purpose-like intelligence little short of 
that of man." 


Of all the children of the elements, Snow is 
surely the most graceful — the most gentle — 
the most courtly. Wind beats him in variety 
— he is up to any music from a lullaby to a 
grand chorus ! One night, lie will moan 
like any delicate and tender-hearted lover — 
on the next, lie will roar as if he had an army 
at his back, and wanted only the least in 
the world more of provocation to crush your 
house down to the ground, with one of his 
gigantic gusts — and even in his better 
humors, when he is neither melancholy nor 
mad, the audacity of his conduct is pro- 
verbial : think of the ships that he has 
wrecked — the venerable fruit and forest trees 
that he has blown down, the corn he has 
prostrated — the houses he has unroofed — the 
lips of coy young maidens that he has kissed ! 
Rain — why, for rain there is not one simple 
good word to be said, save by some discon- 
tented farmers : or on some very dusty day 
— and then, one may compound for a thunder- 
shower, but nothing more, and that, half for 
the sake of the spectacle. Hail — cleaner 
than rain, but shrewd and biting past en- 
durance. Thunder and lightning, too start- 
ling for people of sensibility — no one likes 
to be come over on a sudden with a loud 
lumbering peal, and a fierce flash of lire, 
which, for aught you know, may carry away 
the use of eyes, ears and hands. Frost is so 
cold and stern ! the miser of the elements, who 
locks up everything beautiful and given to mo- 
tion, with his key of adamant ; and would fain 

starve you into the uncomfortable belief that 
flowers are dead for ever, and that brooks 
will run no more : albeit, it must be said of 
frost, that like other misers, he can some- 
times do magnificent things, and treat you 
to such a raree-show, as there is nothing else 
in nature to compare with — changing scrubby 
sere trees into enchanted pillars of diamonds, 
and making hedges of dry sticks outvie the 
far-famed grotto of Antiparos. Thaw, is too 
dirty for decent company ; but Snow — (by 
the way, his only failing is a propensity to 
appear at the same time with that most 
slovenly personage) — Snow is a gentleman 
born ; his easy, exquisite descent shames 
the best executed flights of the peerless 
Taglioni herself; and then he is quiet as 
he is elegant ; as pure, until the earth hath 
soiled him, as if he were a creature formed 
of the down dropped from angels 1 wings. 
How beautifully, in the space of one short 
hour, has he strewn the vista before us — 
canopying the houses as with a silver mantle, 
and spreading beneath our feet a carpet so 
delicate, that it almost goes against our 
consciences to tread upon it ! 


The horse has puzzled us more, individu- 
ally, than any other animal ; and though we 
cannot fairly assert that we believe him to 
be gifted with "reason," we yet readily 
allow that Providence has placed him in the 
highest scale of animal excellence. If w r e 
were to relate one-twentieth part of what 
we have seen to admire in connection with 
the instinct of the horse, we should exceed 
all bounds. Well do we remember, when a 
mere boy, forming a strong attachment to a 
handsome grey mare, rejoicing in the name 
of "Peggy." Her proportions were large, 
her height considerable, and her presence 
noble. We were always to be found, when- 
ever Ave were missed, in the stable with 
" Peggy; " or seated on her bare back, madly 
galloping, without saddle or bridle, all over 
the fields in front of the house. The scene 
of these adventures was at Stockwell, Surrey. 
The friendship existing between ourselves 
and this charming creature, was nicely ba- 
lanced. We were scarcely ever parted. 
" Peggy " would come and kneel down on 
"all fours" for us to mount; and when 
mounted, down went her ears, up went her 
tail, and away we flew, helter skelter — sauve 
qui pent! to the terror of all beholders. 
Then would our exhausted playfellow bend 
down, with affectionate tenderness, to deposit 
her welcome load on terra jirma, just as 
carefully as she did to take it up. Our age, 
when these achievements came off, and this 



early affection was formed, did not exceed 
seven years ! If anything could induce us 
to believe that animals were capable of 
" reasoning," surely it would be " Peggy's " 
own dear self. She was the very paragon of 
affection. I was her best, her dearest 
friend ; and she " the goddess (a fat goddess 
I must own !) of my idolatry," There are 
persons yet living, who will read this, and 
remember vividly having seen the Editor of 
Kidd's London Journal thus mounted! — 
even then laying the foundation of a love for 
the animal creation; which has never dimin- 
ished, but daily increased. 


Dear mother! do not blame me, nor Ronald 

cither — pray ! 
Last night he looked so thoughtful; how could I 

say him nay I 
And see, dear mother, see ! he came just now to 

These roses in my bosom, the earliest of the 


Poor Ronald said so little, but his face expressed 

so much, 
That, when he gave them to me, I trembled at 

his touch : 
His eyes were red all round, thatvonce were full 

of glee, 
And it must have been from waking, and weep- 

iny about me. 

Then why, dear mother, why do you say it was 

not right 
To give the hour he wished for, to walk in the 

! even if lie asked me to Avalk with him all day, 
And / knew how much he loved me, how could I 

say him nay ! 

Poems. — By Coventry Patmore. 

Thoughts on "a Poet." 

As stars in an eternal order play, — 

Bo the great baud of Poets, if they own 

Their natural law, shall circle, each alone, 

Yet all combined in orbital array; 

So small and great, each taking his own way, 

Each making melody in his natural tone, 

Shall keep Heaven singing from its central throne 

Down to the farthest bounds of night or day. 

Then should no region of the world of Mind 

Want light of music, while from tire to fire 

The ranging hearts of men should pass, and find 

A prophet still for every true desire — 

Now this, now that, and of the genuine quire 

Of Poets none in honor fall behind. 

T. BuiiBIDGE. 

Education. — Education is often insufficient, 
owing to the absurd bcilef that to teach reading 
and writing is alone sufficient, and that Ave may 
rest satisfied with the good work we have per- 
formed ! 


Anne E.— Many thanks. If your birds again fall ill, 
write to us at once. 

E. M. T.~ Our space is so circumscribed, that "Fugitive 
Poetry" can only be admissible under very peculiar 
circumstances. We are already overwhelmed with 
similar "kind offerings." This "reply" will suffice 
for all the writers. Their favors have merit, and 
would be readily available in a Monthly Magazine. 

Nkw Subscribers, and Casual Reapers, are referred to 
the Leading Article in our First Number for the 


we shall rigidly adhere. 
Private Letters. — Of these Ave daily receive such 
immense quantities, that we must really beg the 
Avriters to excuse our not replying to them. Our time 
is more profitably occupied. All vacancies, as they are 
called, are filled up. Let this general answer suffice. 

Correspondents sending in any " facts" connected with 
Science or Natural History, arc requested in every 
case to append their names and. places of abode. In no 
instance, hoAvever, will their names be published Avith- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others.— It haA T ing been 
deemed expedient, to meet the views of the Trade, that 
this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
tion, Contributors and others will be so kind as to 
bear in mind that they must giA*e us an extra " Aveek's 
grace," and wait patiently till their faA T ors appear. 

All persons who may send in MSS., but which may not 
be " accepted," are requested to preserve copies of 
them, as the Editor cannot hold himself responsible 
for their return. 

To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
need only order it to be sent to them by any of their 
local Booksellers or NeAvsvendors. It is published 
simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 


Saturday, January 24, 1852. 

With our Fourth Number, published to- 
day, Ave also issue our Fiest Part ; and we 
have so arranged, in order to secure a uni- 
formity of cost, that each subsequent Part 
shall consist of Four Numbers only. This 
will effectually prevent confusion ; and Ave 
thank the Publishing Trade for the excel- 
lent suggestion. We shall issue the Weekly 
Numbers, every Wednesday — as usual. 

We avail ourselves of the present oppor- 
tunity, to chat for a moment with those 
good friends of ours, far removed, before 
Avhom Ave can only appear " thirteen times 

We hear some of our warm supporters 
ask, — " Is the present part of the London 
Journal a fair sample of Avhat the Work 
will be hereafter?" We reply that it is, — 
but in very faint " outline." 

It is " early days " with us yet. We have 
" burly Winter'" to contend Avith. The birds 
are silent ; the floAvers are sleeping; the fields 
are desolate ; the hedges bare ; and all Nature 
undergoing that salutary, needful " change," 
which will ere long renovate, refresh, and 
gladden the Avhole World. 

By-the-by, let us, Avhilst Nature is re- 
posing, argue a little Avith those ll MaAv- 
Avorms " Avho affirm that this is an " Evil 
World." Evil ! Iiow so ? Have Ave not 
Spring and Autumn, Summer and Winter, 
all " big " Avith the most abundant blessings 

that we mortals ccmld desire ? What would 
we more ? 

The fact is, — it is ourselves who constitute 
the " Evil World." We abuse our bless- 
ings ; reject the opportunities of doing 
good to ourselves and others ; and by our 
bad passions, too often unrestrained, we 
quarrel with humanity without any just 
cause. Is it not so ? 

Let us however leave all such " dark 
subjects," to travel on their own way. Our 
spirits are joyous ; our delights harmless ; 
our disposition kindly ; and our love for 
mankind such, — that if they will bear us 
company, we promise they shall never be 
dull, never dyspeptic, never hypochon- 
driacal,— never misanthropical. 

Nature will soon awaken, — like a 
" Giant refreshed." We will then take 
them to the fields, the woods, the forests, 
the lanes, the copses, the brakes, — and 
record such " natural beauties" the while 
for their entertainment, that Ave will " win" 
them , — nolentes volentes. 

We are yet in our infancy, — the " shell 
hardly off our backs ! " As children then, 
WE and our Readers will " together range 
the fields ;" and as the seasons " open," revel 
in all the indescribable enjoyments that even 
now await us in near prospective at every 

" Nature's volume " is one of inexhausti- 
ble entertainment and instruction, We will 
begin with the first page ; and while our 
health lasts, read on, and write on, till our 
" Happiness " is complete. Our path is 
chosen ; those who will walk in it, shall find 
us neither " dull" nor ." prosy." — We have 
said it. 

We stop the press, to acknowledge the 
receipt of a letter from one of our friends 
"in the far East." He tells us that both 
he, and very many others who warmly ad- 
vocate the success of our London Journal, 
vainly inquire for it, day by day, in the 
City ; and more particularly on 'Change. 
All the booksellers and newsvendors say 
" they are constantly asked for it, hut they 
hare no time to send up for it." We have 
made it our business to ascertain this fact, 
personally ; and it is, alas, but too true ! 
However, this shall be remedied instanter, 
by the immediate appointment of a " Mer- 
cury " of our own to wait upon our worthy 
'Cits" of the trade. Surely, whilst our 
fair fame is flying at electric speed all over 
the world, it would never do to be " burked" 
in tills great metropolis ! Why, we have 
friends enough " on 'Change " to support us ! 

Mr. Mann, 39, Cornhill; Mr. Everett, Mr. 
Kennedy, and others in the immediate vi- 
cinity of the Royal Exchange, will from this 
date hoist our colors " mast-high ! " 


Duck Eggs Hatched by Fowls. — Do you con- 
sider it cruel, Mr. Editor, to place the eggs of 
ducks under a common lien ; and do you imagine 
the young are as well brought up by her as they 
would be by a more " natural " parent? I have 
heard much said on both sides of this question; 
but what say you ? I am greatly interested in 
the matter, and entreat a few lines in reply to my 
question. — Sarah A., Godalming. 

[There can be no doubt, however well young 
ducks may thrive under the domestic manage- 
ment of a herj, that the practice of so breeding 
them is " cruel." No sooner are the ducklings 
hatched, while even yet the shell adheres to 
their backs, than away they toddle into the first 
sheet of water they can find ! Vain is it for the 
poor hen to "cluck! cluck!" No clucking of hers 
will ever call them back ! In the full enjoyment 
of liberty and pleasure, they return just when 
they please. The feelings of the poor hen are 
meantime truly agonised. Her limited instinct 
fails to convince her, that water is the " natural 
element" of her progeny; and her fears for their 
safety keep her in a state of constant alarm. 
If the weather be fine and warm, ducks thus 
raised thrive well enough; but we do not recom- 
mend the practice. Besides, it is a pretty as well 
as a " natural " sight, to note the importance of 
a mother duck in company with her posse of 
little toddlers. Nor is the self-importance of the 
drake, under such circumstances, less amusing. 
If " amusement " be your aim, as well as profit, 
be natural ; and follow "Nature in her own perfect 

" Piping " Thrushes. — Can you tell me how I 
can teach a thrush to "pipe?" I have heard 
several "good performers" in my time; but 
never could succeed in finding out the " art " of 
training them. — George L., Brighton. 

[We arc ourselves not over fond of these 
" piping " thrushes. We greatly prefer the wild 
note. Mais chacun a, son gout. If you refer to 
the "Naturalist,'' March, 1851, p. 22, you will 
find a remark by Mr. S. Hannaford, Jim., to the 
following effect — " A relation of mine had a 
thrush, which he brought up from the nest; and 
by constantly playing on the flute in the room 
where it was kept, the bird was able in a few 
weeks to whistle with great accuracy two or 
three tunes. Unfortunately, a cat (let our cor- 
respondent ponder on this, full five minutes) got 
at him one day, and so severely mangled the 
poor bird, that he died very soon after, But 
even whilst dying, he commenced one of the 
tunes in imitation of church bells." If any 
person w r ho keeps birds, will keep a cat also, we 
shall never pity them under any circumstances, 
if they suffer cither loss or damage. It is a just 
punishment for their cruelty.] 

Epidemic among Canaries. — Thrice welcome, 
Mr. Editor, is your arrival amongst us who keep 
birds ! You shall be constantly exercising your 
vocation, depend upon it ! I have a number of 
canaries flying about loose in a large room. 
Some arc old, and some young; that is, not more 
than 4 months old. These are all subject to 



hard breathing; and the noise emitted from 
their nostrils is quite distressing. Some are so 
bad, that they put their heads under their wings, 
and sit moping all day. When disturbed, they 
rally a little; but soon return to their former 
state. A friend and neighbor of mine, who also 
keeps birds, says his are also similarly affected. 
How is this ? What have I done wrong ? How 
must I do right ? — A. P., Hitjhgate. 

[At this season, change of diet is the great 
panacea for all these ills, Give your birds water- 
cress, boiled milk (instead of water), sponge- 
cake, hard-boiled yolk of egg, and a little 
raw, scraped beef, moistened with cold water. 
Try these, and write again.] 

Docility of the Wood Pigeon. — I think it right 
to bring under your notice a paragraph that I 
have just read in the Western Flying- Post, 
about the wood pigeon. These birds are 
notoriously wild; so wild as to be almost un- 
tameable. Do you credit the statement ? It 
runs as follows : — " A very curious instance of 
what docility will accomplish, is observable in 
the Amesbury union, where the boys have 
domesticated (beside small birds) five wood 
pigeons, one of which has been there 8 years. 
They invariably, at the sound of the bell for 
meals, leave the trees in the vicinity and fly 
direct into the school-room, perching on the 
boys' heads, who feed and caress them without 
their showing the least fear. When the boys are 
out for a ramble, the birds will, at a call, come 
and alight, on their heads. — An Observer, 

[Our " swallow," like that of our correspondent, 
can hardly " take in " the above. No doubt, the 
highly respectable paper which gave it insertion, 
believed it to be " true." We look, however, 
for further corroboration.'] 

A " Bald " Blackbird. — Ever since my bird 
moulted, his head has remained perfectly bare. 
He is quite an object ! How shall I act to faci- 
litate the growth of his feathers? 

[Keep him warm, and feed him on generous 
diet. Bear in mind that he loves rump-steak, 
cheese, bread and butter, snails, and mashed 
potatoe (free from butter) ; and as many meal- 
worms as the state of your exchequer will admit 
of. His head will be as black as jet in a month 

Husky Canary. — My " pet " canary, one of 
eight, has for the last fortnight been attacked 
with a wheezing (if I may so call it), and is con- 
stantly panting, as if it were suffering from some 
internal complaint. If you can " prescribe " for 
me, and save the life of my darling bird, I shall 
ever remain your most grateful debtor. — Amelia 
S., Hastings. 

[Fear not, Mademoiselle. The case, though 
bad, is not hopeless. Keep your invalid warm, 
and out of the reach of all draughts. Procure 
some raw rump-steak, let a little of it be scraped 
very fine, and mixed with some hard-boiled yolk 
of egg, diluted in cold water. Previously to ad- 
ministering this, remove the drinking glass ; and 
in lieu of water, substitute boiled milk. Do this 

for two days; and then try the prepared meat. 
Your next letter will bring "tidings of great joy." 
We shall look for it, with anticipations of plea- 

" Tumbler " Pigeons. — I am a devoted admirer 
of pigeons, and have just had some very sweetly- 
pretty Almond Tumblers given me. Do pray 
tell me, Sir, if they are valuable, and possessed of 
good qualities, and affection — points on which I 
perceive you are properly particular. — Lizzie 
K., Norwood. 

[We will not inquire who gave you these Al- 
mond Tumblers ; but we anticipate it was " a very 
particular friend," He has properly estimated 
your kind disposition, whilst bestowing on you so 
elegant a charge. Yes ; Almond Tumblers pos- 
sess all the virtues inherent in the Columbine 
tribe. Symmetrical in form, and gentle in dis- 
position, you could not cultivate any " pets " who 
would more fully estimate your fondness for 
them. They will come indoors to be fed, and 
never leave you, if such be your will. However, 
it is not good to make them too tame ; lest their 
young should fall a prey to the jaws of a neigh- 
bor's cat. (We hope you do not keep a cat!) If 
you wish to enjoy an animating sight, suddenly 
raise a white cloth, and put them to the rout. 
They will then rise on the wing and prepare for 
a flight. The flight of a flock of Almond Tum- 
blers, indeed any tumblers, is an amusing thing 
to witness. The birds, whilst wheeling round, 
keep in compact array; every now and then, 
throwing backward somersaults, and turning 
completely round in the air, which for a moment 
checks their flight. Then, quickly recovering 
their wings, they again dart swiftly forward. 
When descending from their elevation, and pre- 
paring to alight, these somersaults are repeated 
in rapid succession before they reach the ground. 
They seem to do this from a spirit of rivalry ; for 
there is much of the "dare-devil" in them. 
Slightly built as these elegant creatures appear 
to be, yet will they take very long flights, and 
without any apparent fatigue. , You will, no 
doubt, have many more questions to put to us, 
connected with this your favorite hobby. You 
will see by the above, "how very much" we are 
at your service.] 

Remarkable Flight of Migrating Brown Butter- 
flies. — Should you deem a record of the under- 
mentioned singular phenomenon of sufficient 
importance for your London Journal, it will 
give me much pleasure to have placed an inti- 
mation of the fact at your disposal. I scarcely 
need remind you, that the atmosphere on Sunday 
last (Jan. 4 th), was considerably frosty, and very 
cold -winds prevailed more or less during the 
entire day, but it was particularly stormy about 
half-past 2 o'clock (afternoon), at which period 
I was in company with a friend standing at my 
sitting-room window, when to our great surprise 
we observed a numerous colony of large brown 
butterflies migrating in a body (similar to a 
swarm of bees on wing), from south-west to 
north-east. Some of them were momentarily 
driven by the force of the storm so near to the 
window at which myself and friend were stand- 
ing, that both of us had ample time and a good 



opportunity .of well observing them; but they 
presently gained a considerable altitude, and in 
a few minutes were entirely lost to our view. 
Now, if we take into consideration the season of 
the year, and the peculiar mode of flight adopted 
by the insects in this instance (going in a body), 
the fact must at least be viewed as something 
most unusual and singular. — !>., JBarnham, Bucks, 
Jan. 6. 


This is a subject, in which all the scien- 
tific and curious portion of the public must 
feel great interest. The migration of eels is 
well known, as is also the size of them 
(about three inches), when the migratory 
impulse is upon them. But all "sound 
authorities" are agreed that they are not 
bred from spawn, but viviparous. Nor can 
we obtain any credible evidence to the con- 
trary, although "a mare's nest" lias re- 
cently been discovered, and published to 
the world as "a fact" (!) in the Worcester 
Journal. We pardon the editor most 
readily, as we give him full credit for being 
ignorant on a subject which nobody can 
fathom or speak to a point about. 

We were preparing to take up the pen 
ourselves, to assist in setting the matter 
right ; but it has just been so well done by 
" T. Gr." in the Gardeners Chronicle, that 
the^ necessity no longer exists. Still, we 
revive the "question" here, to keep it 
healthily alive; and to prevent anything 
like error being established as fact — one of 
the great objects for which our London 
Journal was brought forward. 

The question was opened by " T. G.," on 
the 20th ult., in the following manner : — 

Propagation op Eels. — My attention has 
been called to a paragraph in a Worcester paper, 
giving an account of a so-called discovery by 
Mr. Eoccius, that eels are propagated by spawn, 
like other fishes, and that they are not brought 
forth alive, as has hitherto been supposed! This 
may be true, but before I can give an unqualified 
belief to the assertion, I should like to have a 
few questions answered by Mr. Boccius. Who 
saw the fish Jrom which these thousands of eggs 
were extracted, at the time this dissection was 
made? Are the parties who saw these eggs quite 
certain that the fish was an eel, and not a 
lamprey? Who saw the eggs from which Mr. 
Boccius produced living eels'? Who, besides Mr. 
Boccius, ever saw eel-fry in a pond which had 
no communication with a river ? Will Mr. Fre- 
derick Allies, and Mr. Reed (the gentlemen to 
whom this "spawn" was exhibited,) say whether 
the ovary which was shewn to them was pretty 
much of the same form as that of the lamprey? 
And if not, in what respect did it differ ? I 
am induced to ask these questions, both because, 
by inference, they show my own opinions on the 
subject, and because I am led, on undoubted 
authority, to believe that Mr. Boccius is inclined 

to claim all that belongs to him at least; and 
also because I have my doubts about the scien- 
tific attainments of Mr. Boccius in the natural 
history of fishes. It is difficult to prove a ne- 
gative. My never having seen "the strange 
things " above mentioned, certainly does not 
prove that other people, with better eyes and 
more discrimination, have likewise failed to do 
so ; but I cannot help doubting, and I publish 
my doubt in the hope that the subject may be 
further inquired into. A true naturalist ought 
to ivish only for the truth, without reference to 
his own pre-conceived notions ; but, so far as my 
examinations have gone, I have failed altogether 
in detecting spawn in the fringes which I have 
fancied were the ovaria of the fish, or elsewhere; 
and I do not believe that eels are bred in fresh 
water at all. I see the fry ascending from the 
sea, in May and June, by thousands and 
millions ; but I never met with one of these in 
a pond having no communication with a river. 
I have little doubt that I shall be pronounced in 
error touching this matter, except by those who 
know how perseveringly these little eels make 
their way up every stream, ditch, and driblet of 
water into which they can gain access. They 
penetrate into the water pipes and pumps ; they 
climb up the perpendicular faces of the rocks 
and weirs, which obstruct the course of the 
river, even when they are only moist; adhering 
to the moss and stones almost as well as snails. 
The downward migration of the eels is observed 
here from July to the middle of September; 
but in the Manchester market, I find them up 
to this time (the end of November), and am in- 
formed that they are caught at the foot of 
Windermere in their downward migration. 
Pray, will a dissection of the conger at various 
seasons throw no light on the propagation of 
eels? One would think that, in such large fish, 
the ovary would be much more easily distin- 
guished than in smaller specimens. — T. G., 

To this, there appeared, on the 27th ult., 
a rejoinder by " G. H.," Finedon Hall. 

Propagation of Eels.— At p. 806, " T. G." 
denies the possibility of eels breeding in fresh 
water. We have a pond here, covering from 
three to four acres, which swarms with eels of 
all sizes. I have caught them from the size of 
my little finger up to the weight of five pounds ; 
the supply of water is from nothing else but 
land springs, there being no communication be- 
tween the pond and any river ; when much rain 
occurs, I am obliged to put up a sluice board, 
in order to prevent the hanks from overflowing. 
I have taken from lib. to a cwt. at a time from 
a box, which the water flows through at the 
bottom of the sluice board; the large quantity 
that has been taken out of this pond leaves no 
doubt that they breed to a great extent, but 
whether they are propagated by spawn, or brought 
forth alive, I am unable to say. — G. H., 
Finedon Hall. 

No other champions appearing, in a paper 
of so extensive a circulation as the Gar- 
deners' Chronicle, shows how ridiculous the 
idea of eels being bred from spawn is con- 
sidered by men of science and observation. 

However, with most commendable energy, 
and unceasing determination to elicit truth, 
" T. Gr." again comes to the question on the 
3rd inst.-r- 

PnorAGATioN of Eels.— Your correspon- 
dent, "G. H.," of Finedon Hall, says " <T. G.' 
denies the possibility of eels breeding in fresh 
water. We have here a pond, covering three or 
four acres, which swarms with eels of all sizes: 
I have caught them from the size of my little 
finger up to the weight of five pounds, &c." 
This is rather too strong. I don't deny the 
possibility of eels being bred in freshwater, I 
only deny the probability. The expression I 
used was that I did not believe they were bred 
in fresh water at all; and I distinctly stated that 
my not having seen these things (eel spawn, 
&c.), did not prove that other persons had not 
done so; but to the question. " G. H." says 
that he has caught "them of all sizes, from the 
thickness of his little finger to five pounds; no 
doubt he may have done so; but did he catch 
them of the thickness of a crow's quill, and 
three inches long? because that is the size at 
which they usually ascend the rivers. He says 
his pond does not communicate with any river. 
Is there no escape of water from it at all? I 
mean, is the evaporation from its surface equal 
to the supply of water; if not, where does the 
surplus go to ? Does it not directly or indirectly 
flow into a river, or the sea? I am more in- 
clined to think this is the case, because " G. H." 
says he has taken 1 cwt. at <sl time from a 
box which the water flows through at the bottom 
of the sluice-board. This is exceedingly like 
what is done here and elsewhere, from July to 
the end of November, when the eels are on their 
downward migration. Will "G. H." be kind 
enough to say whether he does catch the bulk 
of his, about the same time. Will he also say 
whether the eels he catches are not the silver eels? 
and Will he also state whether he does not catch 
them principally after heavy rains have in- 
creased the flow of water out of the pond? If 
he answers these questions in the affirmative, I 
shall still think I am right, and would request him 
to keep a sharp look-out after rains in May and 
June, when I think he ivould probably see the grigs 
passing through his box into the pond. If on the 
other hand there is no escape of water from the 
pond at any time, I must admit I am wrong ; 
but at present I don't know how to reconcile 
this impounding the water so completely with 
what he says about the flow of water through 
the box at the bottom of the sill. Where does 
the water flow to? What is this sill for? — T. G. 

Here the matter rests. We anxiously 
await any further information on this sub- 
ject, and shall be happy to give insertion 
to any communications which may tend to 
show u how" eels really are generated. 
" Microscopes" are all very well, and the 
good folks of Worcester may have taken " a 
long sight" at the supposed ovary of an 
eel ; Ave still, however, prefer the use of our 
own good eyes ; and above all, the exercise 
of sound common sense. The days of 
Munchausen are gone by. The Baron has it 
" all his own way" no longer ! 


Those two beautiful and well-known birds, 
the fieldfare and the redwing, are the first 
winter visitants which attract our attention. 
At first Ave meet Avith little parties in the 
meadoAvs and pastures, and by hedge-rows, 
Avhere the black berries of the elder and the 
ruddy haAv hang in thick profusion. The 
birds are rather Aveakly and comparatively 
tame; but by-and-by they become stronger, 
and assembling in large flocks they chiefly 
haunt open fields, until the nights become 
frosty, Avhen they breakfast on the berries 
of the yeAV, holly, haAvthorn, and ivy — in 
their season — and AvithdraAV to the fields 
when the ground becomes thaAved. As a 
general rule, they seldom feed entirely on 
these berries, except during hard frosts and 
snowstorms ; it is then that the Ioav Availing 
chirp of the redAving is most heard, and 
seems expressive of deep distress. 

The berry-loving propensities of the mis- 
sel-thrush are much stronger than either of 
the tAvo first- mentioned birds ; and his very 
quarrelsome disposition never fails to mani- 
fest itself against all birds, both great and 
small, which happen to feed in his company. 
The gentle song-thrush migrates from many 
inland districts to the sea-coast on the ap- 
proach of Avinter ; and during the hardest 
weather he gleans his favorite food of snails 
(Helices) amongst the bents and carices on 
the sand-hillocks. 

The Avary blackbird, which rarely ventures 
far from the shelter of bush or hedge-roAv, 
delights in fruits, Avild and cultivated, Avhen- 
ever they can be procured. During very 
hard weather he may be seen in the rick- 
yard eating grain, or filching from the pigs'- 
trough ; but Avhere full groAvn hollies exist, 
it is a pretty sight to see this melloAV song- 
ster picking the bright scarlet berries with 
his coral bill, amidst the falling snoAV. 

All lovers of trees and birds should plant 
the holly freely ; it is valuable for its shelter 
during wintry gales, for its glossy leaves, and 
its bright scarlet berries, for its moral and 
poetical associations. We have one Avell- 
knoAvn sign of the approach of winter in the 
increasing familiarity of Master Cock-robin — 
the loved of all for the place which he fills in 
the legendary lore of the nursery, which has 
given him a place in the affections of the old 
and young to which his excessively quarrel- 
some disposition gives him no good title. But, 
after all, this evil extends not beyond the 
society of his felloAvs ; in the company of 
man he often evinces the most engaging fa- 
miliarity ; he attends the gardener's spade, 
enters our churches and houses — a favorite 
everywhere ; for there is no withstanding the 
wistful glance of his full black eye.- — From 
the Gardeners' Journal. 



By Miss Mitford. 

Chapter II. 

The chief exception to Jem Tyler's almost 
universal popularity was beyond all manner 
of doubt his fair neighbor, Miss Philadel- 
phia Firkin. She, together with her trusty 
adherents, Miss Wolfe and Mr. Lamb, held 
Jem, his alehouse, and his customers, 
whether tailor, drover, or dealer, his yard 
and its contents, horses or donkey, ox or 
cow, pig or dog, in unmeasured and undis- 
guised abhorrence : she threatened to indict 
the place for a nuisance, to appeal to the 
mayor ; and upon some "good-natured friend" 
telling her that mine host had snapped his 
fingers at her as a chattering old maid, she 
did actually go so far as to speak to her land- 
lord, who was also Jem's, upon the iniquity 
of his doings. This worthy, happening, 
however, to be a great brewer, knew better 
than to dismiss a tenant whose consumption 
of double X was so satisfactory. So that 
Miss Firkin took nothing by her motion 
beyond a few of those smoothening and pa- 
cificatory speeches, which, when admin- 
istered to a person in a passion, have, as I 
have often observed, a remarkable tendency 
to exasperate the disease. 

At last, however, came a real and substan- 
tial grievance, an actionable trespass ; and 
although Miss Philly was a considerable 
loser by the mischance, and a lawsuit is always 
rather a questionable remedy for pecuniary 
damage, yet such was the keenness of her 
hatred towards poor J em, that I am quite 
convinced that in her inmost heart (although 
being an excellent person in her way; it is 
doubtful whether she told herself the whole 
truth in the matter)— she rejoiced at a loss 
which would enable her to take such signal 
vengeance over her next door enemy. An 
obstreperous cow, walking backward instead 
of forward, as that placid animal when pro- 
voked has the habit of doing, came in con- 
tact with a weak part of the paling which 
divided Miss Firkin's back premises from 
Master Tyler's yard, and not only upset Mr. 
Lamb into a crate of crockery which he was 
in the act of unpacking, to the inexpressible 
discomfiture of both parties, but Miss Wolfe, 
who, upon hearing the mixture of crash and 
squall, ran to the rescue, found herself 
knocked down by a donkey who had entered 
at the breach, and was saluted as she rose by 
a peal of laughter from young Sam Tyler, 
Jem's eldest hope, a thorough Pickle, who, 
accompanied by two or three other chaps as 
unlucky as himself, sat quietly on a gate, 
surveyingand enjoying the mischief. 

" I'll bring an action against the villain ! " 

ejaculated Miss Philly, as soon as the enemy 
was driven from her quarters, and her china 
and dependents set upon their feet: — "I'll 
take the law of him ! " And in this spirited 
resolution did mistress, shopman, and shop- 
woman, find comfort for the losses, the 
scratches, and the bruises of the day. 

This affray commenced on a Thursday 
evening towards the latter end of March; 
and it so happened i that we had occasion 
to send to Miss Philly early the next morn- 
ing for a cart-load of garden-pots for the use 
of my geraniums. 

Our messenger was, as it chanced, a cer- 
tain lad, by name Dick Barnett, who has 
lived with us off and on ever since he was 
the height of the table, and who, originally a 
saucy, lively, merry boy, arch, quick-witted, 
and amusing, has been indulged in giving 
vent to all manner of impertinences until he 
has become a sort of privileged person, and 
takes, with high or low, a freedom of speech 
that might become a lady's page or a King's 
jester. Every now and then we feel that 
this licence, which in a child of ten years 
old we found so diverting, has become in- 
convenient in a youth of seventeen, and 
favor him and ourselves with a lecture accord- 
ingly. But such is the force of inveterate habit 
that our remonstrances upon this subject 
are usually so much gravity wasted upon 
him and upon ourselves. He, in the course 
of a day or two, comes forth with some fresh 
prank more amusing than before, and we (I 
grieve to confess such a weakness) resume 
our laughter. 

To do justice, however, to this modern 
Hobin Goodfellow, there was most commonly 
a fund of goodnature at the bottom of his 
wildest tricks or his most egregious romances 
— for in the matter of a jest he was apt to 
draw pretty largely from an inventive faculty 
of remarkable fertility ; he was constant in 
his attachments, whether to man or beast, 
loyal to his employers, and although idle and 
uncertain enough in other work, admirable 
in all that related to the stable or the ken- 
nel — the best driver, best rider, best trainer 
of a greyhound, and best finder of a hare in 
all Berkshire. 

He was, as usual, accompanied on this 
errand by one of his four-footed favorites, 
a delicate snow-white grey-hound called 
Mayfly, of whom Miss Philly flatteringly 
observed, that " she was as beautiful as 
china ; " and upon the civil lady of the 
shop proceeding to inquire after the health 
of his master and mistress, and the general 
news of Aberleigh, master Ben, who well 
knew her proficiency in gossipping, and had 
the dislike of a man and a rival to any 
female practitioner in that art, checked at 
once this condescending overture to con- 
versation by answering with more than his 
usual consequence : " The chief news that 



I know, Miss Firkin, is, that our geraniums 
are all pining away for want of fresh earth, 
and that I am sent in furious haste after a 
load of your best garden pots. There's no 
time to be lost, I can tell you, if you mean 
to save their precious lives. Miss Ada is 
upon her last legs, and master Diomede in 
a galloping consumption — two of our prime 
geraniums, ma'am ! " quoth Dick, with a 
condescending nod to Miss Wolfe, as that 
Lilliputian lady looked up at him with a 
stare of unspeakable mystification ; " queer- 
ish names, a'nt they ? Well, there are the 
patterns of the sizes, and there's the order : 
so if your little gentleman will but look the 
pots out, I have left the cart in Jem Tyler's 
yard (I've a message to Jem from master), 
and we can pack 'em over the paling. I 
suppose you've a ladder for the little man's 
use,* in loading carts and waggons ; if not 
Jem or I can take them from him. There 
is not a better-natured fellow in England 
than Jem Tyler, and he'll be sure to do me 
a good turn any day, if it's only for the 
love of our Mayfly here. He bred her, 
poor thing, and is well nigh as fond of her 
as if she was a child of his own ; and so's 
Sam. Nay, what's the matter with you 
all ? '\ pursued Dick, as at the name of Jem 
Tyler Miss Wolfe turned up her hands and 
eyes, Mr. Lamb let fall the pattern pots, and 
Miss Philly flung the order upon the coun- 
ter — " What the deuce is come to the 
people ! " 

And then, out burst the story of the last 
night's adventure : of Mr. Lamb's scratched 
face, which indeed was visible enough, of 
Miss Wolfe's bruises, of the broken china, 
the cow, the donkey, and the action at law. 

" Whew ! " whistled Dick, in an aside 
whistle ; • ■ going to law is she ? We must 
pacify her if we can," thought he, "for a 
lawsuit's no joke, as poor Jem would find. 
Jem must come and speechify. It's hard if 
between us we can't manage a woman." 

" Sad affair, indeed, Miss Firkin," said 
Dick, aloud, in a soft, sympathising tone, 
and with a most condoling countenance; 
" it's unknown what obstropolous creatures 
cows and donkies are, and what mischief 
they do amongst gimcracks. A brute of a 
donkey got into our garden last summer, 
and ate up half-a-dozen rose-trees and 
fuchsias, besides trampling over the flower 
beds. One of the roses was a present from 
France, worth five guineas. I hope Mr. 
Lamb and Miss Wolfe are not much hurt. 
Very sad affair ! Strange, too, that it should 
happen through Jem Tyler's cattle — poor 
Jem, who had. such a respect for you ! " 

" Respect for me ! " echoed Miss Philly, 
" when he called me a chattering old maid — 
Mrs. Loveit heard him. Respect for me ! " 

" Aye," continued Dick, " it was but last 

Monday was a fortnight that Kit Mahony, 
the tall pig dealer, was boasting of the 
beauty of the Tipperary lasses, and crying 
down our English ladies ; whereupon, al- 
though the tap was full of Irish chaps, Jem 
took the matter up, and swore that he could 
show Kit two as fine women, in this very 
street — you, ma'am being one, and Miss 
Parsons the other — two as fine women as 
ever lie saw in Tipperary. Nay, he offered 
to lay any wager, from a pot of double X 
to half a score of his own pigs, that Kit 
should confess it himself. Now, if that's not 
having a respect, I don't know what is," 
added Dick, with much gravity; " and I put 
it to your good sense, whether it is not 
more likely that Mrs. Loveit, who is as deaf 
as a post, should be mistaken, than that he 
should offer to lay such a wager respecting 
a lad}- of whom he had spoken so dis- 

" This will do," thought Dick to himself, 
as he observed the softening of Miss Philly's 
features, and noted her very remarkable 
and unnatural silence — " this will do ; and 
reiterating his request that the order might 
be got ready, he walked out of the shop. 

" You'll find that I have settled the mat- 
ter," observed the young gentleman to 
Jem Tyler, after telling him the story, 
"and you have nothing to do but to 
follow up my hints. Did not I manage 
her famously ! 'Twas well I recollected your 
challenge to Mahony about that pretty 
creature, Harriet Parsons. It had a capital 
effect, I promise you. Now, go and make 
yourself decent ; put on your Sunday coat, 
wash your face and hands, and don't spare 
for fine speeches. Be off with you." 

" I shall laugh in her face," replied Jem. 

" Not you," quoth his sage adviser ; "just 
think of the length of a lawyer's bill, and 
you'll be in no danger of laughing. Besides, 
she's really a niceish sort of a body enough — 
a tidyish little soul in her way, and you're 
a gay widower : so, who knows ? " 

And home^went Dick, chuckling all the 
way, partly at his own good management — 
partly at the new idea which his quick 
fancy had started. 

About a fortnight after, I had occasion 
to drive into Belford, attended as usual by 
master Richard. The bells of St. Stephen's 
were ringing merrily as we passed down 
Oriel-street ; and, happening to look up at 
the well-known sign of the Old Red Cow, 
we saw that celebrated work of art sur- 
mounted by a bow of white ribbons, a bri- 
dal favor. Looking onward to Miss Philly's 
door, what should we perceive but Mr. 
Lamb standing on the step with a similar 
cockade, half as big as himself, stuck in his 
hat ; whilst Miss Wolfe stood simpering be- 
hind the counter, dispensing to her old 



enemy, Sam, and four other grinning boys 
in their best apparel, five huge slices of 

The fact was clear. Jem Tyler and Miss 
Philly were married, 



" A wise man "will always note down whatever strikes 
him as being 1 worthy of observation. It may, at a future 
time, benefit or amuse others as well as himself." — Fitz- 

Brother and Sister. — As fathers love their 
daughters better than sons, and mothers love 
their sons better than daughters, so do sisters 
feel towards brothers a more constant sentiment 
of attachment than towards each other. None of 
the little vanities, heart-burnings, and jealousies, 
that, alas for poor human nature! are but too 
apt to spring up in female hearts, can (or, at all 
events, should) arise between brother and sister ; 
each is proud of the success of the other, because 
it cannot interfere with self — nay, on the contrary, 
is nattering to self. Hence, if there be a bond of 
family union more free from the selfish blots that 
interrupt all others, it is that which exists between 
an affectionate sister and brother. — Lady 

Love's Sorrow. — Pride may be called in as a 
useful auxiliary to assist a woman to bear up 
against the inconstancy or the injustice of her 
lover, but few can withstand his sorrow; for no 
weapon in the whole armory of love is so danger- 
ous to a female breast. 

Phrenological Development no Excuse 
for Crime. — One of the most extraordinary 
cases ever brought before a criminal court, has 
just been tried by the Court of Assizes of the Ile- 
et-Vilaine. The prisoner was a female, named 
Helene Jegado, who for several years past has 
been a servant in different families of the depart- 
ment. She stood at the bar, charged with several 
thefts committed in and since the year 1846, and 
seven murders by arsenic in 1850; but the 
evidence showed that, although seven cases had 
been selected as more recent, and therefore more 
easy of proof, not less than 43 persons had been 
poisoned by her with arsenic ! The victims were 
either her masters or mistresses, or fellow-servants, 
who had incurred her hatred. In some cases, no 
motive of interest or hatred could be assigned. 
The prisoner appeared to have been actuated by 
a thirst for destruction, and to have taken pleasure 
in witnessing the agonies of her victims. She 
was at once found " guilty." The only defence 
set up for her was founded on phrenological prin- 
ciples. It was contended that the organs of 
hypocrisy and destructiveness were developed to a 
degree which overpowered the moral faculties and 
that although it would be unsafe to leave her at 
large, she ought not to be condemned to capital 
punishment; the peculiarity of her organisation 
rendering her rather an object of pity. This 
defence failed entirely, and the jury having 
delivered a verdict, without extenuating circum- 
stances, the court condemned her to death. 

Galignani's Messenger. 

Father and Son. — It is the most beautiful 
object the eyes of man can behold, to see a man 
of worth and his son live in an entire unreserved 
correspondence. The mutual kindness and 
affection between them, give an inexpressible sat- 
isfaction to all who know them. It is a sublime 
pleasure which increases by participation. It is 
as sacred as friendship, as pleasurable as love, 
and as joyful as religion. This state of mind 
does not only dissipate sorrow, which would be 
extreme without it, but enlarges pleasures, which 
would otherwise be contemptible. The most 
indifferent thing has its force and beauty when it 
is spoken by a kind father, and an insignificant 
trifle has its weight when offered by a dutiful 
child. I know not how to express it, but I think 
I may call it a transplanted self-love. All the 
enjoyments and sufferings which a man meets 
with, are regarded only as they concern him in 
the relation he has to another. A man's very 
honor receives a new value to him, when be thinks 
that when he is in his grave, it will be ftad in 
remembrance that such an act was done by such 
an one's father. Such considerations sweeten the 
old man's evening, and his soliloquy delights 
him when he can say to himself. " No man can 
tell my child his father was either unmerciful or 
unjust; my son shall meet many a man who 
shall say to him, ' I was obliged to thy father, and 
be my child a friend to his child for ever.' "— 

Tenacity of Life in the Polypi. — Among 
the lower animals, this faculty is the most re- 
markable in the polypi ; they may be pounded 
in a mortar, split up, turned inside out like a 
glove, and divided into parts, without injury to 
life ; fire alone is fatal to them. It is now about 
a hundred years since Trembley made us ac- 
quainted with these animals, and first discovered 
their indestructibility. It has subsequently been 
taken up by other natural historians, who have 
followed up these experiments, and have even 
gone so far as to produce monsters by grafting. 
If they be turned inside out, they attempt to 
replace themselves, and if unsuccessfully, the 
outer surface assumes the properties and 
powers of the inner, and the reverse. If 
the effort be partially successful only, the part 
turned back disappears in twenty- four hours, and 
that part of the body embraces it in such a 
manner, that the arms which projected behind 
are now fixed in the centre of the body; the 
original opening also disappears, and in the room 
of feelers a new mouth is formed to which new 
feelers attach themselves, and this new mouth 
feeds immediately. The healed extremity elon- 
gates itself into a tail, of which the animal has 
now two. If two polypi be passed into one 
another like tubes, and pierced through with a 
bristle, the inner one works its way through the 
other, and comes forth again in a few days; in 
some instances, however, they grow together, 
and then a double row of feelers surround the 
mouth. If they be mutilated, the divided parts 
grow together again, and even pieces of two 
separate individuals will unite into one. 

Elegant Motto. — "Horas non numero nisi 
serenas." — Motto on a sun-dial at Venice. 




"The little and short Sayings of Wise and Excellent 
Men, are of great value— like the dust of Gold, or the 
least sparks of Diamonds." — Tillotson. 

Perseverance and Genius. — A careful and 
a studious patience must first explore the depths 
where the pearl lies hid, before genius dives and 
brings it up to light. Nothing in this world, 
great and durable, has ever been produced but 
with labor. 

Industry is not only the instrument of im- 
provement, but the foundation of pleasure. He 
who is a stranger to it may possess, but cannot 
enjoy; for it is labor only which gives relish to 
pleasure. It is the appointed vehicle of every 
good to man. It is the indispensable condition 
of possessing a sound mind in a sound bod}'. 

Justice is often pale and melancholy; but 
Gratitude, her daughter, is constantly in the flow 
of spirits and the bloom of loveliness. The sim- 
plest breast often holds more reason in it than it 
knows of, and more than philosophy looks for 
or expects. If men would permit their minds, 
like their children, to associate freely together — 
if they could agree to meet one another with smiles 
and frankness, instead of suspicion and defiance 
— the common stock. of wisdom and happiness 
would be centupled. 

Health. — First study health, with that and 
probity you may procure riches; but with riches 
and probity alone you never can ensure health. 

Good Hours. — Avoid night studies, if you 
would preserve your health and intellect. [Good 
advice though not always practicable.] 

Obstinacy. — He who declines listening to 
reason till he be awakened by illness, is bold too 
long, and wise too late. 

The Sympathies op Mind, like the laws of 
chemical affinity, are uniform. Great talents 
attract admiration — the offering of the under- 
standing; but the qualities of the heart can alone 
excite affection—the " offering of the heart." 

The Bobin's Appeal. 

When shelter' d from frost and from snow, 

In pity give ear to my tale ; 
A few crumbs in your kindness bestow 

On poor Robin who sits on a rail. 

In winter, how hard is my fare! 

Grubs, worms, and provisions all fail j 
So a morsel in charity spare 

For poor Robin who sits on a rail. 

For all my winged brothers in turn, 
I hope my appeal will prevail ; 

And we'll tender our notes in return, 
With the thanks of poor Rob. on a rail. 


Up ! and be Doing. 

Ne'er droop your head upon your hand, 

And wail the bitter times ; 

The self-same bell that tolls a knell 

Can ring out merry chimes. 
And we have still the elements 

That made up fame of old ; 

The Avealth to prize within us lies, 

And not in senseless gold. 
Yes: there exists a certain plan, 

If you will but observe it, 
That opes success to any man: 

The secret is- -Deserve it! 

What use to stand by fortune's hill, 

And idly sigh and mope? 

Its sides are rough and steep enough, 

'Tis true; but if you hope 
To battle 'gainst impediments 

That rudely stop your way, 

Go boldly to't: strike at the root — 

You'll surely gain the day. 
Prate not about new-fangled plans ; 

Mine's best, if you'll observe it, 
I say success is any man's 

If he will but deserve it! 

Curiosity op Children.— The curiosity of 
the child is the philosophy of the man, or at 
least, to abate somewhat of so sweeping a gene- 
rality, the one very frequently grows into the 
other. The former is a sort of "balloon, a little 
thing, to be sure, but a critical one nevertheless, 
and pretty surely indicative of the heights, as 
well as the direction, to be taken by the more 
fully expanded mind. Point out to me a boy of 
original, or Avhat would generally be called 
eccentric habits, fond of rambling about, a hunter 
of the wood side and river bank, prone to collect 
what he can search out, and then on his return 
to shut himself up in his room, and make experi- 
ments upon his gatherings — to inquire into the 
natural history of each according to its kind — 
point such an one out to me, and I should have 
no difficulty in pronouncing him, without the aid 
of physiognomy, to be a far better and happier 
augury than his fellow, who does but pore over 
his books, never dreaming that there can be any 
knowledge beyond them. Of such stuff as this, 
were all our philosophical geniuses, from 
Newton to Davy, and so from the nature of things 
they must generally be. And no wonder. The 
spirit that is powerful enough to choose, ay, and 
to take its own course, instead of resigning itself 
to the tide, must be a very powerful spirit 
indeed — a spirit of right excellent promise. 

Talent and Genius Talent and genius 

must go hand-in-hand. Birds rise not by means 
of their wing feathers only, but by those with 
which they guide their flight. 

London:— Published by George Berger, Holywell 
Street, Strand (to whom all Letters and Communica- 
tions for the Editor, and Books for Review, are to be 
forwarded), and Procurable, by order, of every Book- 
seller and Newsvendor in the Kingdom. 

London : Myers & Co., Printer^ 22, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 


Conducted toy WILLIAM KIBD, of Hammersmith,— 

Author of the Familiar and Popular Essays on "Natural History;" "British Song 

Birds;" "Birds of Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" 

" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c. 

"the OBJECT oF our work is to make men WISER, without obliging them to turn over folios and 


No. 5.— 1852. 


Price \\d. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price Id. 


The Wise and Active conquer difficulties by daring 
to attempt them : sloth and folly shiver and shrink at 
sight of toil and hazard, and make the impossibility 

THEY FExVR. — Howe. 

We have long been of opinion, that the 
word "impossibility" ought to be obsolete. 
While it continues to be recognised, much 
evil must be the necessary consequence. 

" Difficulty " certainly is a word whose 
existence we are obliged to acknowledge ; 
but even that is to be " conquered." We 
consider the proper understanding of these 
two words so important, that we propose 
writing a distinct " Article " upon them. 
Wherein the " difference " may be said to 
consist, we will presently inquire ; and we 
shall find a grand " moral" thereunto at- 

The word "difficulty" we have recently 
had opportunities out of number to compre- 
hend ; and had we not long since expunged 
the word " impossibility " from the copy of 
our interleaved Modern Dictionary, we might, 
perchance, have "pored over" the meaning 
of that word also. 

We allude to the varied circumstances 
which have transpired since December 18, 
1851 : on which day we first decided on 
bringing forward our London JOURNAL. 
When we look back upon that day, and con- 
sider the position in which we are now placed 
—when only five weeks old — we marvel ex- 
ceedingly at the progress of events. 

If we were to attempt to tell our kind 
friends, the public, hoiv we have contrived 
in this tiny interval of time to take firm root 
in the land — we should fail in the effort, and 
they would hardly credit our tale. Day by 
day, night by night, hour by hour, have we 
wandered East and West, North and South, 
through this great metropolis and its suburbs, 
to make known the existence, and explain the 
objects of the London Journal. 

We have had to put our head into small 
shops, in which we could not stand upright ; 
to wander into by-lanes and alleys in the 
most wretchedly-low neighborhoods; to 
make friends with people from whose breasts 
the word friendship would appear to have 
long since been banished, if indeed it ever 
found a resting-place there,— and to talk 
with a class of folk whose very existence 
was before unknown to us ! 

Allthese,andmanyothernondeseript places, 
have we personally visited ; and enlisted their 
tribes in our service.* Had we not done so, 
never could the London Journal have 
flourished in our own parts ! A " personal 
canvass" has alone saved us. Here we see 
" impossibility" struck down, and " difficulty" 
energetically surmounted. We have given the 
merest ' outline ' of our Herculean task, and 
we record our triumph that others may " take 
a leaf out of our book." 

We come now to a most grateful, — a most 
gratifying task ; viz. : to thank those kind 
friends in the provinces, who, never hav- 
ing seen us, have yet, at their own cost and 
great sacrifice of time, forwarded our interests 
to an immense extent. We allude more 
particularly to an unknown friend in the 
neighborhood of Liverpool, by whose un- 
ceasing, unwearied energies, we have taken 
a stand in that populous town and its vicinity 
as astounding to us as it must be pleasing to 
our ' Brother Cheeryble,' who will hear of 
no recompense, and even repudiates cur 
thanks ! 

Similar demonstrations of kindness have 
shown themselves in York, Manchester, Bos- 
ton, Doncaster, Aberdeen, and other places, — 

* It will hardly be credited, but it is quite true, that 
the stench emitted from some of these shops (which ap- 
pear never to have been cleansed) was such as to cause 
us to hold our kerchief to our face whilst addressing 
the proprietors. These people, it seems, do an immense 
trade in periodicals, which they deliver weekly to their 
customers. How true is it, that one-half the world 
knows not how the other lives ! 

Vol. I. — New Series. 



for all which we express our gratitude.* We 
could cite " extraordinary" instances of 
noble generosity^ in particular persons ; but 
we prefer letting — 

" Expressive silence muse their praise." 

This must never be called an " evil world/' 
as we have said before, whilst such examples 
exist of " good " men in it — men who 

" Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame." 

Oh ! that the world were made up of such! 

It must not be imagined that we have 
conquered all the difficulties that beset us. 
There are yet many towns and villages where 
our fair name has not been heard ; and Ave 
solicit the kind aid of all who have the 
ability and the disposition to assist in making 
it so. We have already seen ' ho\v much ' 
good-will has accomplished in this way ; and 
it would be affectation in us to say we re- 
quire such cooperation no longer. Our 
ambition is — to be seen everywhere ; and to 
know that our Paper finds a place upon the 
table of every respectable family " from Dan 
to Beersheba." It is a game worth playing 
for, and we have sat down determined to 
" win " it. 

We may add. that in London as well as in 
the Country, numbers of these gracious acts 
of good-feeling have been manifested. We 
have it on the authority of many of the 
dealers in periodicals, that no fewer than 
8, 12, aye, and on some occasions, even 20 
copies have been purchased by a single 
individual — with a view, as he said, " to make a 
work of the kind as well known as it ought to be" 


generously sung our praises on every oppor- 
tunity offered ; and have transplanted many 
a flower from our parterre into their own 
more extensive gardens. This at once makes 
our Journal an u evergreen." 

Will our kind readers condescendingly 
pardon this little episode of egotism ? It is 
a just tribute to iherri for their liberality ; and 
it has relieved our heart of a heavy weight. 
It establishes, at the same time, a most im- 
portant truth, and shows that the word 
" Impossibility " never ought to have a place 
amongst us. Well has it been said, that 
" Patience and perseverance remove moun- 
tains ! 

By the way, if any quantity of our First 
Number remain on hand, our Publisher will 
be right glad to exchange them for subsequent 
numbers. They are becoming scarce. 

*We are in great want of a helping hand in Birmingham, 
Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Dublin. A gentleman writes to 
us from Edinburgh — that " with our prospectus in his 
hand, he has called on all the booksellers in the town 
(who say they have 'sold out ') wi/hout being able io 
procure a single copy <>f our Paper." He adds, " this is 
vexatious ; as I hear your praises sounded far and near." 
It is vexatious. Will any kind friend assist us in " re- 
forming " this ? A word to the booksellers, kindly spoken , 
would go a great way with them, and it would " tell" in 
oue. behalf, wonderfully. 


Flowers ; their Floral Language and Poetry. 
By H. G. Adams. 

A Story of the Seasons. By the same 

We have, in a former Number, given a 
high character to Mr. Adams, both for his 
qualifications as a Poet, and for the fine 
taste he possesses in selecting passages from 
the writings of other Poets. 

That same fine taste is observable through- 
out the first of these two miniature tomes, 
which is studded with gems of poesy, admi- 
rably u set." It is a book that really ought 
to find a resting, an abiding place, in a gen- 
tleman's pocket, or a lady's reticule ; for its 
fascinations are great. 

As " Flowers " form one of our legiti- 
mate, — nay, one of our most favorite topics 
(we wish their approach was nearer !) let us 
illuminate our columns by transplanting into 
them one or two blooming buds. 

Here is one by Leigh Hunt, called 

The Albanian Love Letter. 

An exquisite invention this, 
Worthy of Love's most honied kiss, 
This art of writing billet-doux- 
In buds, and odors, and bright hues, — 
In saying all one feels and thinks, 
In clever daffodils and pinks, 
Uttering (as well as silence may) 
The sweetest words the sweetest way : 
How fit, too, for the lady's bosom, 
The place where billet-doux repose 'cm. 

How charming in some rural spot, 
Combining love with garden plot, 
At once to cultivate one's flowers 
And one's epistolary powers, 
Growing one's own choice words and fancies 
In orange tubs, and beds of pansies ; 
One's sighs and passionate declarations 
In odorous rhet'ric of carnations ; 
Seeing how far one's stocks will reach ; 
Taking due care one's flowers of speech 
To guard from blight as well as bathos, 
And watering, every day, one's pathos. 

A letter comes just gathered, we 

Doat on its tender brilliancy ; 

Inhale its delicate expression 

Of balm and pea; and its confession, 

Made with as sweet a maiden blush 

As ever morn bedew'd in bush; 

And then, when we have kissed its wit, 

And heart, in water putting it, 

To keep its remarks fresh, go round 

Our little eloquent plot of ground ; 

And with delighted hands compose 

Our answer, all of lily and rose, 

Of tuberose and of violet, 

And little darling (mignonette); 

And gratitude and polyanthus, 

And flowers that say, " Felt never man thus !" 



Who can say Leigh Hunt is not a " Poet?" 
The " fire" is contagious. Our pen can 
hardly be tamed to its task. 

One more selection we must make room 
for. It is the speech of Philaster, in one of 
Beaumont and Fletcher's plays. He is de- 
scribing a gentle boy, who made his story 
known to the speaker in the " language of 
Flowers." It is a charming morgeau — 

I have a boy, 
Sent by the gods, I hope, to this intent, 
Not yet seen in the court. Hunting the buck, 
I found him sitting by a fountain's side, 
Of which he borrowed some to quench his thirst, 
And paid the nymph again as much in tears. 
A garland lay him by, made by himself 
Of many several flowers, bred in the bay, 
Stuck in that mystic order, that the rareness 
Delighted me. But ever when he turned 
His tender eyes upon 'em, he would weep, 
As if he meant to make 'em grow again. 
Seeing such pretty helpless innocence 
Dwell in his face, I asked him all his story. 
He told me that his parents gentle died, 
Leaving him to the mercy of the fields, 
Which gave him roots, and of the crystal 

Which did not stop their courses; and the sun, 
Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his 

Then took he up his garland, and did show 
What every flower, as country people hold, 
Did signify; and how all, ordered thus, 
Expressed his grief : And, to my thoughts, 

did read 
The prettiest lecture of his country art 
That could be wished. I gladly entertained 

Who was as glad to follow, and have got 
The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy, 
That ever master kept. Him will I send 
To wait on you, and bear our hidden love. 

The second little Book at the head of 
this notice, is a nice, suitable companion for 
the Story Garden, reviewed in No. 2 of the 
London Journal; and it will range well 
with that, and the Story without an End of 
Sarah Austin. It is neatly embellished, and 
poetically constructed for the perfect under- 
standing of youth. The rising generation 
are under obligations to Mr. Adams, which 
they cannot better discharge than by circu- 
lating his books. He is himself a large Con- 
tributor, and we have before given proof of 
his poetical powers. 

Indolence. — None so littie enjoy life, and are 
such burdens to themselves, as those who have 
nothing to do. The active only have the true 
relish of life. He who knows nofc what it is to 
labor, knows not what it is to enjoy. Recreation 
is only valuable 'as it unbends us ; the idle know 
nothing; of it. 


Succulent Plants. — No. 1. 

Being a great admirer of that very curious 
and beautiful order of plants, the Cactus, the 
Aloe, &c, &c, in all their extended varie- 
ties ; and having devoted very much time 
and study to their cultivation, I now, in a 
series of articles, propose to lay before your 
readers such information as may prove not 
only interesting, but also instructive. And 
as on the outset it is desirable that a good 
understanding should exist between us, I 
shall proceed to give an outline of what I 
purpose doing. I shall not advance anything 
as a settled principle, unless /have tried and 
proved it to be such. That which is theo- 
retical (as far as I am concerned), I shall 
only describe as such ; while the practical 
residts of experience will be firmly and boldly 
held forth, fearless of opposition and con- 

Nothing will be " taken for granted," 
nothing will be assumed ; everything stated 
shall be, " to the letter," strictly correct, so 
that should a difference of opinion now and 
then exist between us, I trust none will be 
uncourteous enough to impugn the veracity 
of any assertions made ; but where such may 
be the case — and which I am sure will not 
be upon any essential principle — we may 
still agree ("to^ differ"), having perhaps 
travelled two different roads, which have in 
the end led to the same point at last. 

To the experienced cultivator, I may per- 
haps have nothing new to offer; yet Ave may 
compare notes, and now and then offer 
friendly and mutual suggestions to each 
other : while to the unskilled amateur (for 
whom these articles are intended), I may be 
of service in guarding against many errors 
he may have made, or have been led into : 
thus saving him from loss, vexation, and 
disappointment. What I propose is, then, 
as follows : — 

1st. To shew their suitability for decorat- 
ing windows ; how they ought to be tfeated 
for such a purpose ; what to do and what to 
avoid ; " what they will stand " and " what 
they will not stand," in such situations. 
2nd. How they may be propagated, and 
greatly increased in this situation. 3rd. 
Their general treatment in the store and 
greenhouse, such as instructions in re-potting, 
and in what manner water should be applied; 
best manner of propagation ; hints as to tem- 
perature, soil, &c, &c. 

These, therefore, are my objects in out- 
line ; in my next communication, I shall 
have something to say upon their ornamental 
appearance for the " decoration of windows,'''' 
and take the different subjects (as nearly as 

may be), in the order in which they are laid 
down. In the meantime, I shall be happy 
to give any of your readers " advice " upon 
one or all the heads which I have enume- 
rated.— N. B, 

Annuals and Biennials. 

Annuals are plants which live but one year, 
and consequently, require to be raised from seed 
annually. By a particular mode of culture, some 
of them may be made to live longer. Thus 
mignonette will continue to bloom for two or 
more years, if not allowed to ripen its seeds. 

Hardy Annuals, or those requiring no protec- 
tion, are sown where they are to remain in the 
open borders from the end of February to the 
beginning of May. To flower late in autumn, 
some may be sown in the middle of June. 
"Whether sown in patches or broad masses, whe- 
ther mixed or separate, must be left to the taste 
of the sower — guided by his knowledge of the 
colors of the flowers. These should be well con- 
trasted. Every patch should be properly la- 
belled, which is easily done by having some deal 
laths, one inch broad, planed smooth, cut into 
nine-inch lengths, and painted white. On these 
the name can be written with a lead-pencil. 

Half-hardy Annuals, such as require artificial 
heat while seedlings, are sown in a gentle hotbed 
in March and April. The seedlings, when an 
inch or two long, to be transplanted into another 
gentle hotbed, or greenhouse, to remain until the 
middle of May, then to be transplanted into the 
borders, and attended like other annuals. 

Tender, or Greenhouse Annuals, requiring arti- 
ficial heat and shelter during their whole growth, 
are sown early in March, on a gentle hotbed; to 
be transplanted into another like the half-hardy, 
and thence into pots, to remain in the green- 
house. Some of them, if moved into a warm 
border in June, will bloom freely, and even ripen 

Biennials, from biennis, the Latin for "of two 
years' continuance," are plants which, being pro- 
duced from seed in one year, perfect their seed 
and die during the year following. Biennials 
may often be made to endure longer if prevented 
ripening their seeds, and many exotics, biennials 
in their native climes, are perennials in our 

Hardy Biennials. — Some of these ripen their 
seeds as early as August, in which case they 
may be sown as soon as harvested. Others, ri- 
pening their seeds later, must have these reserved 
from sowing until May. The double varieties 
of wall-flowers, stocks, &c, are propagated by 

Frame Biennials. — These require the shelter 
of a frame during the early stages of their 
growth; to be removed thence in May to the 
borders, where they bloom in July and August, 
— Johnson's Cottage Gardeners' 1 Dictionary. 


I never look upon the free, open green 
in our English villages, which no one seems 
to claim for his own, and see the large old 
solitary oak, elm, or sycamore towering in 
its centre, and spreading its shadowy 
branches above the rude benches that sur- 
round its trunk, but I think of the many 
good and evil tidings which have for ages 
been talked of there. It is so perfect an 
English picture — to see the old men when 
their day's work is done assemble there one 
after another, smoking their long pipes, and 
sitting down to talk over the progress of 
crops, the appearance of the weather, the 
health and prosperity or adversity of their 
neighbors ; while their children are rolling 
and laughing upon the unclaimed grass, or 
playing with the harmless shepherd's dog ! 

And then to observe the knowing looks 
of the older children, drinking in the words 
of the elders with wonder, and marvelling in 
their little minds how such things can be — 
how care can exist in a world where there 
are so many birds'-nests, so much good milk, 
such large hunches of brown bread and 
cheese, and so many green fields and beau- 
tiful flowers ! And then the strange conclu ■ 
sions they leap to when among themselves — 
the various versions of what they have 
heard, and the wonderful construction they 
put upon things too weighty for their in- 
tellects ! 

Even then you may trace vestiges of the 
stronger mind, the doubting look, the un- 
willingness to give credence to the decision, 
the knowing shake of the head, and all 
those little motions which indicate doubt. 
The questions they put to their parents, the 
sparkling of their eyes when their minds are 
just grappling to advantage with the sub- 
jects, and the shrewd way in which they 
make their inquiries, are well worth stu- 
dying. Then to look round the green, and 
see all the little whitewashed cottages, so 
neatly thatched, seldom containing more 
than one story, but each standing upon 
plenty of ground, with a little garden at 
the front, a few bee-hives, or a row of milk- 
pans, all clean and arranged in order ; some 
of the fronts overgrown with woodbine, 
Avhich in their unchecked luxuriance had 
partially hidden the parlor-window ! 

Then to think of the beauty, the health, 
the repose, that breathe around such spots ; 
the singing of birds, the humming -bees, the 
gaudy butterflies, passing or crossing each 
other, the waving of the trees, the lowing of 
kine, the bleating sheep, the neighing of 
young colts, the milkmaid's song as she 
walks past with well-filled pail, or sits under 
some pleasant tree : all these are things that 
sink into the heart — sights that we sigh for 



in the dense city, amid the roll of carriages, 
and the vociferations of jostled passengers. 

Then to sit and see the sun set upon such 
a tranquil scene ; the blue smoke rising in 
unbended pillars and mixing with the deep 
foliage ; the sloping beam gilding a distant 
rivulet, or bathing in crimson the top of a 
far-off wood ; the church spire, rising in its 
grey antiquity, and looking down upon the 
lovely groves scattered at its base ; the dim 
outline of the hills, the faint mist spreading 
over the valleys, a bell just heard from some 
neighboring village, the falling weir, the bay 
of a distant mastiff, the clap of an old gate, 
the song of the ploughboy returning home ! 

Live not all these images in the heart, 
chasing away even care while we contem- 
plate them, and throwing a soothing tran- 
quility over the soul, a rest which we re- 
member, a poetry which owns no words', a 
delight which can never be forgotten? — 
Thomas Miller. 


The wanderers of Heaven 

Each to his home retires ; save those that love 
To take their pastime in the troubled air." 

'lis now that the severity of the season causes 
the busy bustling wren, that modest hedge- 
chanter, to draw nearer to the haunts of man. 
The skylark and the pipit alone, of all our little 
songsters, scorn the shelter of the grove, and 
crouch lonely behind some lowly clod or stone. 
The latter habitually leaves the uplands for the 
sea-coast on the approach of winter, whilst the 
former only does so on the approach of snowy 
weather. Their local shiftings are finely marked 
in the midland counties ; the flocks of buntings, 
finches, and linnets gradually increase in number, 
haunting the fields and road-sides by day, and 
resorting to ivy and other evergreens to roost. 
When snowstorms cover up the seeds of weeds 
and scattered grains, they thickly congregate about 
farmeries and rickyards. 

The raven is now rarely seen in the cultivated 
districts, but the carrion crow, which so strongly 
resembles him, maintains his ground pretty well, 
notwithstanding all the gamekeeper's wiles to 
shoot or entrap him. There is an energy in 
the look and flight of this bird, and his^; harsh 
call-notes have a tone of independence which 
will ever command the admiration of all unpre- 
judiced men who can overlook his deeds of rapine 
on. game and young lambs. During snowstorms, 
these birds are more abundant in the cultivated 
districts, and a small party searching the desolate 
and deserted fields for some dead bird or beast, 
and bowing and calling to each other from the 
hedgerow trees, are very, characteristic features 
of the season. So, also, are the beautiful hooded 
crows, wherever they are found. The lively 
jackdaws generally herd with the neighboring 
rooks: in some places they roost in their favorite 
old buildings, and in others amongst rooks in 
their old ancestral trees. The latter do much 
damage to fields of wheat ; if a little hillock is 

swept clear of snow by the wind, every plant is 
stocked up ; clovers and fields of turnip are also 
attacked. Their winter habits are very interest- 
ing : they leave their roost shortly after daybreak, 
and when their feeding-ground is far distant they 
mount aloft to pursue a direct course; if the 
weather is likely to prove suddenly stormy, 
they return home early; if* the wind is high, they 
fly low; if calm, they keep at a good elevation, 
and descend rapidly with a loud noise to the field 
which has been chosen for their rendezvous; not- 
withstanding the tremendous din of the assembled 
multitudes, the least alarming noise, and often 
their own impulse, makes the whole body spring 
into the air. They wheel about in great curves, 
re-alight, and again take wing, until the deepening 
shades of evening warn them to retire to roost. 
The evening evolutions of the starlings before 
going to roost have been faithfully and poetically 
described by the late Bishop of Norwich 
(Stanley), in his Familiar History of Birds; but 
we have no land birds whose habits can in this 
respect be surpassed by the rook. Like other 
polygamous birds, the old male black grouse as- 
semble in flocks after the breeding season, until 
the following spring ; the females and young keep 
in separate flocks from the former; they are very 
wary in winter, and do much damage to the fields 
of young clover and turnips near their haunts. 
The bold challenge of the male red grouse as 
he springs from the heath, is a pleasant sound on 
the lonely hill-side on a mistj' morning; in fine 
weather they keep in little family parties; during 
snow, and even in stormy weather, they unite in 
large packs. Woe to the neighboring fields of 
clover, and to the outlying sheaves on the moor- 
land farm! for in eating oats they seize the stalk 
below the ear, which is then drawn through 
between the mandibles, and as they do not pick 
up the fallen grains, more are thus irretrievably 
lost than devoured. When pheasants are allowed 
to shift for themselves, their habits are very in- 
teresting, and they display an amount of sagacity 
in providing for their food and safety which is 
not to be expected in the pampered conservative 
of the park cover, near which the fields of wheat, 
beans, clover, and turnips are seriously injured. 
In the former case, the birds keep in little family 
parties, and their heavy upward flight to the 
boughs of their favorite larch or spruce fir, and 
noisy crowings, have a pleasant effect in twilight 
hour ; so also have the call notes of the partridge 
ere the scattered members of the covey are as- 
sembled, and however contrary to our notions of 
comfort, yet these birds do often habitually roost 
in the dampest furrow in the field. They are 
exceedingly fond of the seeds of many injurious 
weeds, particularly those of Polygonum avicu- 
lare, and, besides grain, they destroy clovers and 
turnips to some extent. 

There is many districts an annual influx of 
ringdoves from the north. Their habits are shy 
and wary, and the large flocks move to and fro 
on whistling pinions, ravaging the clover and 
turnip fields. It is interesting to watch their 
return, to roost in the dark pine wood, and still 
more so to see the wild confusion which follows 
the report of a gun. Of birds of prey, we may 
note the more familiar, such as the buzzard with 
heavy circling flight, content with field mice and 



little game: very useful in his station, and, 
though he does not attack ring-doves, he often 
scatters their flocks in great affright. The bold 
sparrow-hawk throws all the birds, from the 
barn-door fowl to " the wren which tells of perils 
in the hedge," into commotion as he dashes 
headlong after his quarry, surprised at the 
sudden onset, following a stealthy advance. 

Of all our native birds there is none which 
for elegance of flight can be compared to the 
kestrel or wind-hover, a name so expressive of 
his peculiar habit of fluttering over his prey, 
which consists chiefly of beetles and field mice, 
and it would be more compatible with common 
sense and true justice if laws were enacted to 
preserve these useful birds rather than the game 
birds which are a curse to the whole community. 

The heron now haunts little streams where 
trout resort to spawn, and we note with pleasure 
his picturesque form perched on some tall look- 
out tree, and his strong flight to his distant feed- 
ing ground. The gallinule feeds freely upon 
grain in winter, and if not molested they often 
resort to gardens and shrubberies, where their 
compact dark form, relieved by a little white co- 
lor, and their active habits, render them very 
ornamental. The evolutions of the wild geese 
on the wing are very interesting ; they are shy 
and wary, but the pertinacity with which they 
will often return to large open fields of wheat 
and clover, render it necessary to set a watch in 
some districts. Such is a faint outline of the 
more prominent of the familiar phenomena dis- 
played in the daily winter habits of our land birds. 
There are few men resident in the country, who 
are not conversant to a certain extent with the 
habits of birds in relation to seasons and atmo- 
spheric changes; and a little more attention would 
tend to increase not only the general habit of ob- 
servation, but would give anew and hitherto un- 
dreamt-of interest to the subject. — Physicus, in 
the Gardeners' Journal. 

[We quite coincide with this view, and sin- 
cerely hope that some of our observant friends, 
far off as well as near, will send us minute par- 
ticulars of what comes under their observation 
in this way. To record these matters, is the 
high road to making " science " popular and 
universally interesting.] 


The trunk of an old hawthorn is more 
gnarled and rough than, perhaps, that of 
any other tree ; and this, with its hoary ap- 
pearance, and its fragrance, renders it a 
favorite tree with pastoral and rustic poets, 
and with those to whom they address their 
songs. Milton, in his L'Allegro, has not 
forgotten this favorite of the village : — - 

" Every shepherd tells his tale 
Under the hawthorn in the dale." 

When Bums, with equal force and delicacy, 
delineates the pure and unsophisticated 
affection of young, intelligent, and innocent 
country people, as the most enchanting of 

human feelings, he gives additional sweet- 
ness to the picture by placing his lovers 

" Beneath the milk-white thorn, that scents the 
evening gale." 

There is something about the tree, which 
one bred in the country cannot soon for- 
get ; and which a visitor learns, perhaps, 
sooner than any association of placid delight 
connected with rural scenery. When, too, 
the traveller, or the man of the world, after 
a life spent in other pursuits, returns to the 
village of his nativity, the old hawthorn is 
the only playfellow of his boyhood that 
has not changed. His seniors are in the 
grave ; his contemporaries are scattered ; the 
hearths at which lie found a welcome are 
in the possession of those who -know him 
not ; the roads are altered ; the houses re- 
built ; and the common trees have grown 
out of his knowledge : be it but half a cen- 
tury or more, if man spare the old haw- 
thorn, it is just the same — not a limb, 
hardly a twig has altered from the picture 
that memory traces of his early years ! 


Swarming, or Single Hiving System.— 
The multiplication of families or colonies of 
bees, in the natural manner, is accomplished 
by the secession, or swarming of a portion 
of the inhabitants of a stock-hive, which has 
become over-peopled, with insufficient room 
for the breeding and storing departments. This 
act of emigration is frequently a matter of neces- 
sity or expediency only ; and it may commonly 
be prevented by a timely enlargement, and de- 
creasing thereby the temperature of the hive. 
As soon as warm weather sets in, a common 
hive becomes filled with an augmented popula- 
tion. Every part is crowded and heated to 
excess; and at length the separation of a part 
of the inhabitants must take place. In anticipa- 
tion of this event, royal cells are constructed in 
which to rear young queens, for without this pro- 
viso no swarming occurs. On the occasion of a 
first swarm the old queen accompanies it, leaving 
her successor to the throne still in embryo. 
The older and younger bees, mixed indiscrimin- 
ately, and (though not without exceptions) 
several hundreds of drones, form the swarm. 

It is not an unusual thing to hear a boast of a 
number of swarms from a stock of bees; and one 
of these will even sometimes throw off a swarm 
the same year. Nothing is proved by this but 
the fact, that an otherwise thriving colony has 
been weakened (if not destroyed) by being split 
up into fractions, which ought to have been held 
together, as the greatest security against every 
evil, and the surest source of profit to the pro- 

In the words of Gelieu, "in the swarming 
season the strong hives are almost entirely filled 
with brood-combs. At that time also honey 
becomes abundant; and when fine days succeed 
each other, the working bees amass an astonish- 
ing quantity. But where is it to be stored? 



Must they wait till the young bees have left the 
brood-cells, by which time the early flowers will 
be Avithered ? What is to be done in this dilem- 
ma? Mark the resources of the industrious 
bees. They search in the neighborhood for a 
place where they may deposit their honey, until 
the young shall have left the combs in which they 
were hatched. If they fail in this object, they 
crowd together in the front of their habitation, 
forming prodigious clusters. It is not uncommon 
to see them building combs on the outside. Many 
did so in the year 1791." 

In general, honey gathering is altogether sus- 
pended, necessarily, under the circumstances we 
have stated; and, after a long course of inaction, 
in the very best part of the season, swarming 
follows. The proprietor must therefore make his 
election as to his course. If the multiplication 
of stocks is his object, his bees may thus be com- 
pelled to throw off swarms, but he must abandon 
the prospect of a large harvest of honey. This 
method of bee management is usually called 
single hiving. 

Depriving System. — Opposed to the mode of 
management in which swarming is systematically 
encouraged, is that whereby, under ordinary cir- 
cumstances, it may be usually prevented. Let us 
observe the natural instinct of these little animals, 
and provide them with such an addition, tempo- 
rarily, of storing-room, as will enable them to go 
on constructing fresh combs, to be filled with 
honey, pure and unmixed with other substances. 
This being deposited in some separate receptacle, 
but communicating with the stock-hive, it can 
at pleasure be obtained possession of, with but 
little trouble, and without annoyance or injury to 
the bees. The object being obtained, these 
return again to their original habitation. Various 
have been the contrivances for effecting the sepa- 
ration of the storing and breeding departments 
in a hive managed on the depriving system. The 
bees, when pressed for room, will extend their 
operations almost in any direction, whether the 
accommodation is given above (which is termed 
storifying), at the bottom, or collaterally. Equally 
indifferent are they to the material of the tempo- 
rary receptacle, whether it be of straw, wood, or 
glass. A second hive or box, placed upon the 
stock, is termed a super, or duplet. Upon this, 
or, whatsis better, between it and the stock-hive, is 
sometimes introduced another, called, in apiarian 
language, a triplet. An empty box or hive pushed 
beneath a full one, is denominated a nadir. A 
still smaller enlargement of a common hive con- 
sists merely of a hoop of wood, or a few bands of 
straw, on which it is raised, and this constitutes 
an eke. — From " Taylor's Beekeeper's Manual." 


Contentment is the talisman of happi- 
ness ; the spell which works more wonders 
than all the enchantment of all the magicians 
of Arabian fiction. So happy an illustration 
of the effects of this virtue is afforded in the 
following little narrative, and the touching 
reflections arising out of it, that we cannot 
refrain from giving it a place in our London 
Journal : — 

A beautiful girl, gay, lively, and agreeable, 
was wedded to a man of a clumsy figure, plain 
features, and of a stupid looking physiognomy. 
A kind friend said to her one day:— 

" My dear Julia, how came you to marry that 
man ? " 

" The question," replied she, "is a natural one. 
My husband, I confess, is not graceful in his ap- 
pearance, not attractive in his conversation. But 
he is so amiable ! And goodness, although less 
fascinating than beauty or wit, will please equally 
at least, and is certainly more durable. We 
often see objects, which appear repulsive at first, 
but if we see them every day we become ac- 
customed to them , and at length not only view 
them without aversion, but with feelings of attach • 
ment. The impression which goodness makes on 
the heart is gradual; but it remains for ever. 
Listen, and I will tell you how I came to marry 
my husband. 

"I was quite young when he was introduced 
for the first time into the house of my parents 
He was awkward in his manner, uncouth in his 
appearance, and my companions used often to 
ridicule him, and I confess that I was frequently 
tempted to join them, but was restrained by my 
mother, who used to say to me in a low voice, 
* He is so amiable !' and then it occurred to me, that 
he was always kind and obliging ; and whenever 
our villagers assembled together at our fetes and 
dances, he was always at the disposal of the mis- 
tress of the house, and was profuse in his atten- 
tions to those whose age or ugliness caused them 
to be neglected. Others laughed at his singularity 
in this respect ; but I whispered to myself, ' He 
is so amiable ! ' 

" One morning my mother called me to her 
boudoir, and told me that the young man, who is 
now my husband, had made application for my 
hand. I was not surprised at this, for I already 
suspected that he regarded me with an eye of 
affection. I was now placed in a dilemma, and 
hardly knew how to act. When I recollected 
his ill-favored look and his awkwardness, I was 
on the point of saying, ' I will not wed him,' and 
I blushed for him, which is a strong proof that 
I even then felt interested in him; but when I 
recalled the many excellent traits in his character, 
and dwelt on his benevolent and good actio?is, I 
dismissed the idea of banishing him from my pre- 
sence. I could not resolve to afflict him, and I 
whispered to myself, ' He is so amiable! ' 

" He continued to visit me, encouraged by my 
parents, and cheered by my smiles. My other 
admirers, one by one, left me ; but I did not regret 
their absence. I repeated the expression, ' he is 
so amiable ! ' so often, that it seemed to me to 
carry the same meaning as, * he is so handsome.' 
/ loved him, and took him as my husband. Since 
then, I have -not only been resigned to my fate, 
but happy. My husband loves me devotedly, 


There is something exceedingly touching 
in this love which beauty entertains for 
goodness ; and there is no doubt that some 
women do love from a feeling of benevolence, 
or tender compassion, regulated by reason. 
Such an affection vrill know no change ; it is a 




D. Wv— Very many 'thanks. Your favor shall appear 
next week; but bear in mind that in a "Journal" of 
our dimensions, all communications must savor of the 
" miiltum in .parvo." 

W. R.— Our space is so circumscribed, that "Fugitive 
Poetry" can only be admissible under very peculiar 
circumstances. We are already overwhelmed with 
similar "kind offerings." This "reply" will suffice 
for all the writers. Their favors have merit, and 
Avould be readily available in a Monthly Magazine. 

New Subscribers, and Casual Readers, are referred to 
the Leading Article in our First Number for the 
detailed objects of the London Jourxal : to these 
we shall rigidly adhere. 

Private Letters. — Of these we daily receive such 
immense quantities, that we must really beg the 
writers to excuse our not replying to them. Our time 
is more profitably occupied. All vacancies, as they are 
called, are filled up. Let this general answer suffice. 

Correspondents sending in any " facts" connected with 
Science or Natural History, are requested in every 
case to append their names and places of abode. In no 
instance, however, will their names be published with- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others. — It having been 
deemed expedient, to meet the views of the Trade, that 
this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
tion, Contributors and others will be so kind as to 
bear in mind that they must give us an extra " week's 
grace," and wait patiently till their favors appear. 

All persons who may send in MSS., but which may not 
be " accepted," are requested to preserve copies of 
them, as the Editor cannot hold himself responsible 
for their return. 

To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
need only order it to be sent to them by any of their 
local Booksellers or Newsvendors. It is published 
simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 


Saturday, January 31, 1852. 

^ We have now had time sufficient to take 
the public opinion as to what our London 
Journal should be. Each week has shown 
by an increasing circulation, that it IS 

prove to 
yet more 


popular ; and daily kind " hints 

lis that it may be rendered 


The cry of the people is — " Give ! give ! !" 
and we really believe if our number of pages 
were trebled, the cry would be still the same. 
Yet all demands must have some bounds. 

It requires much judgment, in a Paper like 
ours, to study how to please all ; and yet 
that is to . be done — weekly ! If therefore 
we succeed in this, — and we have as yet 
done so, — is not our triumph "great?" 

We love to have readers who are athirst 
for information ; and the more they encou- 
rage us, the harder will we work for them. 
We remember, whilst perusing that very 
trashy affair, the "Journal" of Mrs. Butler 
(late Fanny Kemble), losing all our disgust 
by the discovery of these words — "Oh, that 
somebody would tell me about every thing 
in the world ! " This spirit of inquiry,— so 
naively, so heartily expressed, — like charity, 
covers a multitude of sins ; and we hardly 
like to be severe with any one who exhibits 
such a desire. 

Still, our contributors must allow us dis- 
cretion. Many things may be passable, 
that may not be worthy of a place in our 
pages. We will oblige where and when Ave 
can ; but the public eye is upon us in the 
matter of taste and judgment. Among those 
who send, us articles for insertion, are some 
curious penmen, and still more curious 
"authors." Of these it may be said, in the 
words of a popular writer : — " Some people 
write nonsense in a clear style, and others 
sense in an obscure one ; some can reason 
'without being able to persuade, others can 
persuade without being able to reason ; some 
dive so deep that they descend into darkness, 
and others soar so high that they give no 
light ; and some, in a vain attempt to be 
cutting and dry, give us only that which is 
' cut and dried.' " 

It were vain for us to try and " reason " 
with these folk. " They have eyes and see 
not ; ears, and hear not." We are therefore 
obliged to place them among the •■ rejected 

But the printer tells us our remarks are 
already "out of bounds;" so we must retire 
on the instant. 


The Flower Garden. — Encouraged by your 
attention in responding so carefully, Aveek by 
week, to questions put to you by your readers, 
may I ask, seeing that I am a novice, some in- 
formation touching "Annuals and Biennials?" 
I have just taken a house, with a pretty garden 
attached to it, and I wish, with the coming- 
season, to make flowers my study. With your 
kind help from time to time, I shall hope to im- 
prove. I am not one of those ladies — "pegs" 
as you have called them in your article on 
"Female Costume," that cannot stoop because 
of the undue length of my drapery; / wear a 
tunic, and a regular garden dress. — Emily P., 

[As you are a " sensible " correspondent, and 
equip yourself, regardless of " fashion," in a 
"proper" garden costume, you have all our 
heart — all our best endeavors to please. In re- 
turn, make as many "converts " as you can from 
the follies of modern dress; so shall we together 
assist in causing every lady to be her own gar- 
dener, and establish a better order of things than 
now exists. We blush for certain of the sex — 
and so we ought, as they cannot do it for them- 
selves I You will find a description of " Annuals 
and Biennials," in another part of our paper. 
We shall always be happy to hear from you.] 

Anecdote of a Robin. — To encourage others to 
follow my example, and to assist in affording 
your pages interest — for all who "love" birds 
must ever feel " interested " in them, I send 
you a few particulars of a robin. Early last 
summer, two members of my family were sitting 
at work in the garden, when they suddenly found 


themselves in company with a third — an uninvited 
guest. He looked so spruce withal, and his 
scarlet liveiy so new and handsome, that they 
fell in love with the little rogue at first sight. 
The " impression " seemed mutual ; for from that 
very day, Master Bobby was a constant atten- 
dant on their footsteps — coming under their 
chairs, then on the rail of the chair, and, finally, 
installing himself master of the work-table. Of 
coarse, these familiarities were reciprocated, and 
his little majesty was fed on many a delicate 
morsel of savory fare. By no means shy was he ; 
but he was " constant " to his " first love ; " and 
never did my sisters stir out without finding him 
either present to receive them, or within call at 
the earliest intimation given of his presence 
being considered desirable. From this time, he 
fed daily from their hand, and also from the 
hands of all our household, for he made himself 
quite " at home " with us all. lie knew a stran- 
ger in a moment, and his fine, quick eye, seemed 
to look them through ere he ventured to become 
familiar with them. At this time, I was gradu- 
ally recovering from a long and protracted ill- 
ness, and was one day conducted into the garden 
to sit for a short season on the lawn. Neither 
the white dress in which I was habited, nor the 
couch on which I lay, seemed to disturb the se- 
renity of Master Bob. He soon discovered that 
I was " one of the family ; " and honored me with 
unreserved confidence, by feeding from my hand 
and sitting at my elbow. The worst now re- 
mains to be told. Several neighboring robins 
feeling jealous, watched their opportunity to 
"strike" him as he was in the act of flying 
towards us; and we fear the combat was a 
''mortal" one, for our "pet" from that very 
hour has been seen no more! — Anne E. 

[We are much obliged for this little anecdote, 
as it will pave the way for many extraordinary 
anecdotes of the robin, in which we ourselves 
are personally interested. By and by, we shall 
introduce these in all their freshness. The robin 
spoken of by our fair correspondent was, beyond 
all doubt, slain by his jealous rivals. There is 
no bird in the whole creation so savage as this 
saucy fellow. He proves the truth of the saying, 
that " jealousy is cruel as the grave."] 

Is Groundsel 'good for Song -Birds in Winter? 
— I thank you for writing me privately about 
a cure for my sick birds. Unfortunately, we have 
no watercresses here at this season; however, I 
have given the goldfinch some apple. Is 
groundsel good for birds in the winter? — An In- 
quirer, Glasgow. 

[Groundsel and chickweed are excellent food 
for birds, when ripe and well seeded. When, 
however, the frost has touched them, they be- 
come poisonous, and must be altogether laid 

"Cats;' are they not "Vermin?" — I have 
carefully read all your admirable " Treatises on 
Natural History," in the Gardeners' Chronicle, 
and feel sure the interest you have excited there- 
by will be even added to, by the issue of a Paper 
of your own to discuss these matters more at 
large — more con spirito and con amore. In one 
of your chapters on Song-Birds, you spoke of 

the sad havoc the " cats " had made with your 
feathered family, and how you had asked the 
cats "to supper" on a subsequent occasion — the 
" last supper " you significantly hinted they 
would ever require. On that same occasion, you 
characterised cats as " vermin," and I heartily 
respond to your remark. They are "vermin." 
I, like yourself, am fond of " pels," and have 
many of them; but those cats! those cats! How 
did you get rid of them ? Pray speak it out, pro 
bono; for neither can gardens flourish, nor birds 
be happy, where these vermin abound. Stamp 
yourself at once a " public benefactor," by pub- 
lishing a " secret " which I know you possess. — 
X. Y. Z. 

[Well said! We confess to the fact of our 
being " pledged" to publish this recipe; and we 
redeem the pledge now, in order that the favor 
may come with a better grace. Let our corres- 
pondent carefully peruse page 28 of our London 
Journal. There he will find, under the head of 
"To all who have Aviaries," something spoken 
of called Carbonate of Barytes. A little of this, 
artfully rubbed into the skin of a fried or boiled 
sole, or incorporated with a little hashed beef, 
will " immortalise " all cats who partake of it- — 
their names alone existing in the pages of history. 
Let us emphatically state, lest we be thought 
cruel — a charge never yet brought against us — 
that this is an easy mode of " removal." No pain 
whatever is occasioned; nor could the electric 
current itself do its work more certainly, or more 
speedily. The common barytes in powder, price 
sixpence per pound, is sold by Dymond in Hol- 
born. The common is far preferable to the finer 
powder; the one is active, the other neutral. We 
learned these particulars from " a near neighbor " 
of ours, who, like Samson, slew in one night, 
enough cats to throw half " Our Village " into 
mourning. We are greatly his debtor, and we 
now pay the debt of gratitude.] 

Propagation of Eels. — Many thanks, Mr. Edi- 
tor, for so boldly putting down the attempt to 
prove, by means of telescopes, that eels are gene- 
rated from spawn. No proof whatever exists, as 
yet, of this being the case ; and all respectable 
authority, backed by keen observation, is decid- 
edly opposed to the theory. I write the sentiments 
of very many beside myself, and we shall watch 
eagerly to see who comes forward to vindicate 
the new and strange doctrine. — Piscator. 

[The above, one of many other similar com- 
munications, will suffice for our present purpose ; 
but as we have before quoted from the Gardeners' 
Chronicle, we think it right to give the sentiments 
of another writer therein (Jan. 10), whose 
opinion coincides with our own, and that of the 
scientific public generally. The writer, who has 
assumed the signature of "Tau," says — " The eel, 
like the viper question, is a very curious instance 
of the firmness with which many popular opinions 
are maintained, although when the grounds of 
them are examined, no satisfactory proof of their 
truth can be produced. In this view, I think 
the discussion of both these points in your paper 
has been very useful — not merely as an inquiry 
into two very curious and interesting points of 
natural history, but as a caution to distinguish 
between facts and appearances ; in short, as in- 



struction in that most useful lesson, 'how to ob- 
serve '-—the event of which leaves us still in the 
dark respecting a more interesting animal — that 
which was supposed to be a sea-serpent. With 
respect to the eel, I believe the first person who 
treated the subject scientifically, was Sir H. 
Davy, who has, I believe, exhausted it, as far as 
negative proof goes. Those who hold that eels 
are ever bred in fresh water, ought to be able to 
prove — 1st, that eels are ever found there in spawn 
— 2nd, that such spaivn has ever been hatched there. 
It is no proof to say that small eels have been 
found in ponds having no communication with 
rivers — the proof required is ab ovo. There is 
also room for inquiry into a rather curious sub- 
ject, and that is — do eels, after having gone to the 
sea for spawning ever return to fresh water?" 
We trust that this inquiry, now that it is set on 
foot, will not be suffered to rest until the truth 
shall have been arrived at 
for nothing.] 

Mere assertions go 

Improvements in Bird Cages. — I was glad to see 
byanote appended to one ofyour articles in arecent 
number of the Gardeners' Chronicle, that you had 
taken notice of the Bird Cages in the Zollverein 
department in the Great Exhibition. Allow me 
to suggest that, in your London Journal, you 
call the attention of makers to the improvements 
which I consider necessary in the present mode 
of constructing cages in this country. And, firat, 
let me point out that those above referred to were 
admirably adapted, both for cleanliness as regards 
the cages themselves as Avell as regards the parlor 
carpet. You may remember, that the bottoms of 
these cages were moveable (thus doing away with 
a drawer or tray), being simply fastened to the 
upper part by small catches; thus, when the 
cages are to be cleaned, nothing is required but 
to undo the catches, set the upper part, with the 
bird in it, on the table, &c, and proceed to cleanse 
the lower part, or bottom, if need be, with soap 
and water. You would observe, also, that the 
bottom part of these cages extended 2 or 3 inches 
beyond the circumference of the upper part, 
leaying a ledge of 2 to 4 inches round the out- 
side, forming a tray wherein all the dirt, seed, 
&c, thrown out by the bird, is caught; and thus 
preventing it from falling on the carpet, which 
is, in my opinion, a great drawback to having 
birds in a sitting-room. The cages to which we 
are accustomed are by far too low in the solid 
part of the front; rarely being above 2 inches 
high ; the consequence is, that the floor is kept in 
a continual mess, by sand, dirt, &c, thrown over 
this low edging. 

The cages in the Zollverein department were 
made of japanned zinc, solid and perforated; and 
wire — no wood being used at all; and many 
were of very elegant designs. Being, moreover, 
made of such material, insects could be entirely 
kept away, and the cage washed throughout 
without receiving the least damage, by merely 
plunging it bodily in warm water. A cage made 
of such material is consequently a much more 
perfect article than one made of wood. And 
zinc, both solid and perforated, is so cheap, that 
were the attention of some spirited maker turned 
to the subject, many pretty things might be the 
result. To make a perfect article, however, it 

would be quite necessary, in my opinion, that 
the bottom be moveable, and of larger circum- 
ference than the top, and made of light sheet 
zinc; the upper part of wire and perforated zinc, 
and the whole japanned. The expense at first 
would be a little more than wood ; but, in the end, 
it would prove cheapest. The designs should be 
good ; always bearing in mind the comfort of the 
inmate, and the cleanliness of the apartment. 
Should this last object be completely effected, 
many ladies, who at present will have nothing to 
do with a canary in the parlor, would immediately 
transfer him from the kitchen, to which place he 
may have been banished — simply because " there 
was no keeping the carpet cleans — J. C, Glasgow. 

Canary for Breeding. — I have a male canary, 
who commenced " moulting" three months ago; 
but who stopped moulting suddenly. He is, 
however, now in full song. May I " breed " 
from this bird in the coming season? — J. J. P. 

[If your bird is stout and healthy, you may 
certainly procure him " a mate " — in March, if 
you think it desirable. However, bear in mind 
that if he is & first-rate songster, he will degene- 
rate in song from the day of the "marriage ce- 
remony." Birds of real value should live "a 
life of celibacy." Let us note here, that ten 
weeks at least are needful for the proper moulting 
of every cage-bird.] 

"Omnia vincit amor!" 

Let not our gentle readers start. We 
are not about to discourse of the whining 
rhapsodies, the milk-and-water sayings and 
doings of common-place, namby-pamby 
lovers— destitute alike of soul and feeling. 
No; these everyday perpetrations of madness 
and folly, which turn the heart sick, find no 
response in our breast. We sing of " love " 
in its proper signification, full and deep in 
its purpose, expansive in its nature, and in- 
extinguishable in its essence. Boarding- 
school misses, and puling boys 'in their 
teens, may sit and read ; but if they dare 
intrude upon such sacred ground, they may 
chance to get burnt to a cinder. If they 
aspire to reach the giddy eminence, we warn 
them fairly of their danger. 

W r e cannot conceive it possible, that 
" love " can be cultivated in towns or cities ; 
the " love " at least we speak of. Amidst 
the scenes of nature alone can the "pure 
feeling " be inspired, fed, perfected, and en- 
joyed. Thus much prefatory. 

Of all the passions which derive additional 
force from nature, none can experience a 
greater accession than "love" — that noble 
feeling of the heart, which Plato calls an 
interposition of the gods in behalf of the 
young — a passion celebrated by all, yet truly 
felt by few. " Dost thou know, what the 
nightingale said to me?" says a Persian 



poet ; — " What sort of a man art thou, that 
can'st be ignorant of love ? " I rather would 
inquire, " What sort of a man art thou, that 
can'st be capable of love ? " since, though of 
all the passions it is the most productive of 
delight, it is the most unfrequent of them 
all. How many of us feel the passions of 
hatred and revenge, envy and desire, every 
day ! but how few of us are capable of feeling 
an ardent affection, or conceiving an elevated 
passion ! That was not love which Maho- 
met felt for Irene, Titus for Berenice, or 
Horace for Lydia ; and though Anacreon is 
never weary of boasting his love, the gay, 
the frantic Anacreon never felt a wound. 
Indeed, the Greeks were almost as much a 
stranger to legitimate love, as the barbarians 
they affected to despise. The passion of 
Sappho was nothing but an ungovernable 
fever of desire, though the fragment she has 
left has been so long, so often, and so widely 
celebrated, that the world imagines she was 
the essence of love ! As a poem, it has been 
unjustly celebrated (if we may venture to 
differ from so admirable a critic as Longi- 
nus) because it has been celebrated far be- 
yond its merits ; and even, as a faithful 
picture of desire, it has nothing to compare 
with a poem of Jayadeva — " The palms of 
her hands support her aching temples, pale 
as the crescent, rising at eve. ' Heri, Heri! ' 
thus she meditates on thy name, as if she luere 
gratified, and she lucre dying through thy ab- 
sence. She rends her locks — she pants — she 
laments inarticidately — she trembles — she pines 
— she moves from place to place — she closes 
her eyes — she rises again — she faints ! In 
such a fever of love, she may live, oh ! celestial 
physician, if thou administer the remedy • but 
shoiddst thou be unkind, her malady toill be 
desperate." 1 " 1 

This picture is drawn with force, and with 
all the wild irregularity of the passion it- 
self; but what has uncontrollable desire to 
do with the passion of love ? That mild and 
elegant affection, which sinks the deepest 
where it shews itself the least ; that curiosa 
felicitas of the heart, which can animate only 
the wise, the elegant, and the virtuous ; that 
sacred passion, which bestows more rapture 
than perfumes, than sculpture, than paint- 
ing, than landscape, than riches, than honors, 
and all the charms of poesy united in one 
general combination. 

Let us read the ode of Sappho and the 
fragment of Jayadeva, again and again, and 
say if we are half so agreeably attracted to 
their merits, as to those of the following 
beautiful and faithful indication of virtuous 
and elevated attachment ? The feeling 
which this exquisite morgeau expresses, must 
be felt by every woman who aspires to the 
passion of love, or the name of love is pros- 
tituted and its character libelled : — 

Go, youth belov'd, in distant glades, 
New friends, new hopes, new joys to find; 
Yet sometimes deign, 'mid fairer maids, 
To think on her thou leav'st behind. 
Thy love, thy fate, dear youth to share 
Must never he my happy lot; 
But thou may'st grant this humble prayer — 
Forget me not — forget me not ! 

Yet should the thought of my distress 
Too painful to thy feelings be, 
Heed not the wish I now express, 
Nor ever deign to think on me. 
Yet oh! if grief thy steps attend, 
If want, if sickness be thy lot, 
And thou require a soothing friend, 
Forget me not — forget me not ! 

Love is composed of all that is delicate in 
pleasure ; it is an union of desire, tender- 
ness, and friendship ; confidence the most 
unbounded; and esteem the most animated 
and solid — filling the entire capacity of the 
soul, it elevates the character by purifying 
every passion, while it polishes the manners 
with a manly softness. Where love like 
this exists, far better is it to be joined in 
death, than, by the caprice of parents, or 
the malice of a wayward fortune, to drag on 
years of anxious separation, fie who is 
capable of acting greatly and nobly, when 
under no influence of affection, animated by 
the applause of a woman whom he loves, 
would act splendidly and sublimely. And 
is this the passion which every animal that 
usurps the name of man, flatters himself he 
is capable of feeling? As well may he 
imagine himself capable of writing the Ham- 
let of Shakspeare, of forming the Hercules 
Farnese, or of composing the u Kedempf ion " 
of the immortal Handel ! 

Love has several analogies with natural 
beauties. " What is more like love," says 
a German philosopher, quoted by Zimmer- 
man, " than the feeling with which the soul 
is inspired, when viewing a line country, 
or the sight of a magnificent valley, illumined 
by the setting sun?" So obvious is the 
connection to which we have alluded, that 
it is no unfrequent practice with the French 
peasant girls, when they separate at the 
close of the day, to say, " good night ! — I 
wish you may dream that you are walking 
with your lover in a garden of flowers." 

Have we lost a beloved mistress, or an 
affectionate friend ? Do we hear a tune of 
which she was enthusiastically fond, or read 
a poem he passionately admired, are not our 
thoughts swayed by a secret impulse as by 
the faculty of association we recal to mind 
the many instances we have received of their 
affection and regard ? If a melancholy plea- 
sure is awakened by what we hear and what 
we see in familiar life, how much more is 
that exquisite faculty of combination en- 
larged, when, after a long absence, we tread 



the spot or behold the scenes, which once 
were the objects of our mutual admiration. 
Tf divided by distance, the lover indulges 
reveries of felicity among grand or beautiful 
scenery, the image of his mistress is imme- 
diately associated with it ; and, at peace 
with all the world, he sinks into one Of those 
silent meditations, which in so powerful a 
manner expand the faculties of the imagi- 
nation, and chasten the feelings of the heart. 
Thus was it with Petrarch. When lie was 
at Valchiusa, he fancied every tree screened 
his beloved Laura ; when he beheld any 
magnificent scene among the Pyrenees, his 
imagination painted her standing by his side ; 
in the forest of Ardenne, he heard her in 
every echo, and when at Lyons, he was 
transported at the sight of the Rhone, be- 
cause that majestic river washes the walls 
of Avignon. " In fact, 1 ' said he, " I may 
hide myself among woods and rocks and 
caves ; but no places so wild, so beautiful, 
or so solitary, but love pursues me at every 



I've rov'd o'er many a mountain wide, 
And conn'd their charms from side to side ; 
Seen many a rock aspiring rise, 
Astonish' d to its native skies; 
While countless crags appear'd below, 
All black with shade, or white with snow; 
These, as I've seen, my heart still true, 
Trembled— for I thought of you ! 

I've listen'd to the torrent's roar, 

In scenes where man ne'er trod before; 

And, as I've heard the vernal bee 

In sweet delirious ecstacy, 

Make rocks, and caves, and vallies ring, 

Responsive to its murmuring — 

I've bade those scenes and sounds adieu, 
To dwell in pensive thought on you I 

As on the ocean's shelvy shore, 

I've listen'd to its solemn roar; 

Beset with awful wonders round, 

While sea birds screamed with grating sound, 

And moon majestic from a cloud 

Display'd her front, sublime and proud — 

I've thought how sweet, how far more dear, 
Those sounds would be were Julia near ! 

In secluded walks, on the banks of rivers, 
in unfrequented recesses, and in the most 
savage solitudes, the lover delights to indulge 
the luxury of meditation. There every 
scene serves to increase the strength and 
delicacy of his passion, and all nature dressed 
in her boldest or most beautiful attire, wears 
to his imagination 

-"a look of love;" 

While all the tumults of a guilty world, 
Tos't by ungenerous passions, sink away. 

This, gentle readers, if vou please, is 
« Love ! " " 


Some people say it is a very easy thing to 
get up of a cold morning. Is it? You have 
only, they tell you, to take the resolution ; 
and the thing is done. This may be very 
true ; just as a boy at school has only to take 
a flogging, and the thing is over. But we 
have not at all made up our minds upon it ; 
and we rind it a very pleasant exercise to 
discuss the matter, candidly, before we get 
up. This at least is not idling, though it may 
be lying. It affords an excellent answer to 
those who ask, how lying in bed can be in- 
dulged in by a reasoning being, — a rational 
creature. How ? Why, with the argument 
calmly at work in one's head, and the 
clothes over one's shoulder. Oh — it is a 
fine way of spending a sensible, impartial 
half-hour ! 

If these people would be more charitable, 
they would get on with their argument better. 
But they are apt to reason so ill, and to 
assert so dogmatically, that one could wish 
to have them stand round one's bed of a 
bitter morning, and lie before their faces. 
They ought to hear both sides of the bed, 
the inside and out. If they cannot entertain 
themselves with their own thoughts for half 
an hour or so, it is not the fault of those 
who can. 

Candid inquiries into one's decumbency, 
besides the greater or less privileges to be 
allowed a man in proportion to his ability of 
keeping early hours, the work given his 
faculties, &c, will at least concede their due 
merits to such representations as the follow- 
ing. In the first place, says the injured but 
calm appealer, I have been warm all night, 
and find my system in a state perfectly 
suitable to a warm-blooded animal. To get 
out of this state into the cold, besides the 
inharmonious and uncritical abruptness of 
the transition, is so unnatural to such a 
creature, that the poets, refining upon the 
tortures of the damned, make one of their 
greatest agonies consist in being suddenly 
transported from heat to cold, — from fire to 
ice. They are "haled" out of their "beds," 
says Milton, by "harpy-footed furies," — fel- 
lows who come to call them. On my 
first movement towards the anticipation of 
getting up, I find that such parts of the sheets 
and bolster as are exposed to the air of the 
room, are stone cold. On opening my eyes, 
the first thing that meets them is my own 
breath rolling forth, as if in the open air, like 
smoke out of a chimney. Think of this 
symptom. Then I turn my eyes sideways, 
and see the window all frozen over. Think 
of that. Then the servant comes in. " It is 
very cold this morning, is it not ? " — '' Very 
cold, Sir."—" Very cold indeed, is'nt it ? " 
— " Very cold indeed, Sir." — " More than 


usually so, isn't it, even for this weather ? " 
(Here the servant's wit and good-nature are 
put to a considerable test, and the inquirer 
lies on thorns for the answer.) " Why, Sir 
----- 1 think it &." (Good creature ! There 
is not a better, or more trnthtelling servant 
going.) " I must rise, however — get me 
some warm water." — Here comes a tine 
interval between the departure of the servant 
and the arrival of the hot water ; during 
which, of course, it is of " no use " to get 
up. The hot water comes. "Is it quite 
hot ? "— " Yes, Sir."—" Perhaps too hot for 
shaving : I must wait a little ? " — " No, Sir ; 
it will just do." (There is an over nice pro- 
priety sometimes, an officious zeal of virtue, 
a little troublesome.) " Oh — the shirt — you 
must air my clean shirt, ; — the linen gets very 
damp this weather." — " Yes, Sir." Here 
another delicious five minutes. A knock at 
the door. " Oh, the shirt, very well. My 
stockings — I think the stockings had better 
be aired, too." — "Very well, Sir." Here 
another interval. At length everything is 
ready, except myself. I now, continues our 
incumbent (a happy word, by the bye, for a 
country vicar) — I now cannot help thinking 
a good deal — who can ? — upon the unneces- 
sary and villanous practice of shaving : it is 
a thing so unmanly (here I nestle closer) — 
so effeminate (here I recoil from an unlucky 
step into the colder part of the bed.) — No 
wonder that the Queen of France took part 
with the rebels against that degenerate King, 
her husband, who first affronted her smooth 
visage with a face like her own. The Em- 
peror Julian never showed the luxuriancy of 
his genius to better advantage than in re- 
viving the flowing beard. Look at Cardinal 
Bembo's picture — at Michael Angelo's — at 
Titian's — at Shakspeare's — at Fletcher's — at 
Spencer's — at Chaucer's — at Alfred*s — at 
Plato's — I could name a great man for every 
tick of my watch. — Look at the Turks, a 
grave and otiose people. — Think of Haroun 
Al Raschid and Bed-ridden Hassen. — Think 
of Wortley Montague, the worthy son of his 
mother, above the prejudice of his time. — 
Look at the Persian gentlemen, whom one is 
ashamed of meeting about the suburbs, their 
dress and appearance are so much liner than 
our own. — Lastly, think of the razor itself— 
how totally opposed to every sensation of bed 
— how cold, how edgy, how hard ! how ut- 
terly different from everything like the warm 
and encircling amplitude, which 

Sweetly recommends itself 
Unto our gentle senses. 

Add to this, benumbed fingers, which may 
help you to cut yourself, a quivering body, 
a frozen towel, and a ewer full of ice ; and 
he that says there is nothing to oppose in all 
this, only shows, that he has no merit in op- 
posing it. — Leigh Hunt. 


No. t., The Good Style of Living, con- 
sists in having a mansion exquisitely fitted 
up with all the expensive bijouterie compa- 
tible with true elegance, yet avoiding the 
lavish superabundance of gimcrackery which 
borders on vulgarity ; comely serving men 
in suitable liveries, all so well initiated into 
the mysteries of their respective duties, that 
a guest could imagine himself in a fairy 
palace, where plates vanish without the 
contamination of a mortal finger and thumb, 
and glasses move without a gingle : then 
the feast is exquisitely cooked, and exqui- 
sitely served ; the table groans not, the 
hostess carves not ; but one delicious dainty 
is followed by another, and each remove 
brings forth a dish more piquant than the 
last : every thing is delightful, but there 
must appear to be an abundance of nothing ; 
two spoonsful alone of each delicious viand 
should repose under its silver cover ; and 
he who dared ask to be helped a second 
time to any thing, ought to be sentenced to 
eternal 'transportation from the regions of 
liaut ton ! 

No. 2., The Bad Style of Living, is 
shocking even to describe ! A large house 
in streets or squares unknown ; hot, ugly 
men servants, stumbling over one another 
in their uncouth eagerness to admit you ; 
your name mispronounced, and shouted at 
the drawing-room door ; your host and 
hostess in a fuss, apologising, asking ques- 
tions, and boring you to death ; dinner at 
length announced, but no chance of extrica- 
tion from the dull drawing-room, because 
the etiquette of precedence is not rightly 
understood, and nobody knows who ought 
to be led out first ; all the way down stairs 
a dead silence, and then the difficulty of 
distributing the company almost equals the 
previous dilemma of the drawing-room : 
wives are wittily warned against sitting by 
husbands, and two gentlemen are facetiously 
interdicted from sitting together ; the hostess 
takes the top of the table to be useful, not 
ornamental, for fish and joint and turkey, 
must she carve ; while her husband, at the 
other end of the mahogany, must equally 
make a toil of a pleasure, and yet smile as 
if it were a pleasure to toil ! The beasts of 
the earth and the birds of the air appear 
upon the board, scorning disguise, in their 
own proper forms, just as they stepped out 
of Noah's ark; always excepting those who 
are too unwieldy to be present in whole 
skins ; and even they send their joints to 
table in horrid :unsophistication. Sweets 
follow, but how unlike the souffles of Ude 
Grim green gooseberries, lurking under 
their heavy coverings of crust ; and cus- 



tards, the plain produce of the dairy, em- 
bittered with bay leaves, cinnamon, and 
cloves ! Cheese follows, with the alterna- 
tives of port wine and porter ; and all this 
weary time the servants have been knock- 
ing your head about, thumbing your plate, 
or pouring lobster sauce into your pockets ! 

OUB If 0TS-B003C ; 


" A wise man will always note down whatever strikes 
him as being- worthy of observation. It may, at a future 
time, benefit or amuse others as well as himself." — Fitz- 

The Condensation of Moisture from 
Cold. — Some little writing appears to be going 
on with regard to the condensation of moisture 
in the interior of forcing-houses, when the ex- 
ternal temperature is very low. The idea is 
certainly worthy of attention, but is by no means 
new or unfamiliar to many practical men. Some 
twelve years ago I had under my care, in one of 
the northern counties, a vinery, in which, on the 
20th of March, the vines had put forth a growth 
from six to nine inches; when suddenly a frost 
so severe came on, that a thermometer laid on 
the roof went down to 8°, or 24 degrees of frost; 
and I remember being particularly struck with 
the circumstance that, although I could keep up 
a heat ranging from 65° to 70°, with all the 
water I could use to produce evaporation I could 
not keep the air moist; it would both feel and 
smell dry, and the young leaves appeared flaccid; 
yet the house dripped all over, and the condensed 
water ran through the laps, froze on the outside, 
tilled the spouts with ice, and formed some 
beautiful stalactites of ice, reaching from them to 
the ground. To my employer, who took a 
lively interest in these things, I stated the case, 
and told him that I feared unless I could have 
some means of covering the house I should lose 
the crop — not from want of heat, but from the 
external cold condensing all the moisture in the 
interior, faster than it could be supplied. His 
answer was, the production of two large carpets 
Avith which I covered the vinery; and iu half an 
hour things began to right themselves, and no 
doubt were the means of saving the vines, as in 
a few days, they progressed very kindly, and ul- 
timately came to perfection. — Omega., Gardeners' 

The Human Animal Economy. — In the 
diversity of the regions which he is capable of 
inhabiting, the lord of the creation holds the 
first place among animals. His frame and nature 
are stronger and more flexible than those of any 
other creature ; hence he can dwell in all situa- 
tions on the surface of the globe. The neigh- 
borhood of the pole and equator, high mountains 
and deep valleys, are occupied by him ; his strong 
but pliant body bears cold, heat, moisture, light 
or heavy air; he can thrive any where*, and runs 
into less remarkable varieties than any other 
animals which occupy so fireat a diversity of 
abodes; a prerogative so singular that it must 
not be overlooked. The situations occupied by 
our species in the present times, extend as far as 

the known surface of the earth. The Green- 
lander and Esquimaux have reached between 
70° and 80° of north latitude, and Danish set- 
tlements have been formed in Greenland in the 
same high latitude. Three Eussians lived on 
Spitsbergen between six and seven years, between 
77° and 78° north latitude. The negro lives 
under the equator, and all America is inhabited 
even to Terra del Euego. Thus we find that 
man can exist in the hottest and coldest countries 
of the earth. 

Moral Beauty. — What is the beauty of nature 
but a beauty clothed with moral associations? 
What is the highest beauty of literature, poetry, 
fiction, and the fine arts, but a moral beauty 
which genius has bodied forth for the admiration 
of the world ? And what are those qualities of 
the human character which are treasured up in 
the memory and heart of nations — the objects of 
universal reverence and exultation, the themes 
of celebration, of eloquence, and the festal of 
song, the enshrined idols of admiration and love? 
Are they not patriotism, heroism, philanthropy, 
disinterestedness, magnanimity, martyrdom? 

A Good Name. — Who shall pretend to cal- 
culate the value of the inheritance of " a good 
name?" Its benefit is often very great, when 
dependant upon no stronger ties than those 
which accident or relationship have created; but 
when it flows from friendships which have been 
consecrated by piety and learning, when it is the 
willing offering of kindred minds to departed 
worth or genius, it takes a higher character, and 
is not less honorable to those who receive than 
to those who confer it. 

The Seward of Merit. 

In the list of our Public Journals, none have 
taken a more decided flight upwards than our 
worthy and clever contemporary the Morning 
Advertiser. The stamp-returns, just issued, prove 
this. We do remember the time, years gone by, 
when this Paper was very low in circulation, so 
low as to pass by a nick-name. The same energy, 
however, and unity of purpose in its present pro- 
prietors, which we recently noticed existing 
among the proprietors of the Critic — have infused 
so much new arterial blood into its veins, that 
it has far outsped all competitors, and it is now 
next (without exception) in circulation to The 
Times. This is really owing to excellent manage- 
ment ; for whilst it is second to none in early 
and authentic " news 1 ' — the variety of its matter, 
and the tact shown in its selection, introduction, 
and arrangement, render it quite a " Eamily 
Paper." We know many instances in which it 
has been adopted as such. Besides which, it cir- 
culates every where. All this bears out what we 
have already said — that a determination toiconquer, 
in nine cases out of ten wins the battle. We, 
too, sail on this tack ! 

Comparison — The stem of the fir-tree forms 
knots which betray the age of the tree; human 
life has also its perceptible rings. 




" De omnibus rebus,— et quibusdam aliis." 

Leap Year. — This is Leap Year ! So, gentle- 
men, look out! The following is extracted from 
an old volume, printed in 1606, entitled, " Court- 
ship, Love, and Matrimonie:" — "Albeit it is 
novve become a part of the common lawe, in 
regard to social relations of life, that as often as 
every bissextile year doth return, the ladyeshavc 
the sole privilege, during the time it continueth, 
of making love unto the men, which they doe 
either by wordes or lookes, as unto them it 
seemeth proper; and moreover, no man will bel| 
entitled to the benefite of clergy who dothe refuse 
to accept the offers of a ladye, or who dothe in 
anywise treat her proposal with slight or con- 

"Nice" Distinctions. — A lady asked Mr. 
Jekyll what was " the difference between a soli- 
citor and an attorney?" " Precisely the same," 
he answered, " as between a crocodile and an 

A Rural Maiden, one after our own 
Heart.— She had the charms of an angel ; but 
her dress was quite plain and clean, like a country 
maid; her face a sweet oval, and her complexion 
the brunette of a bright rich kind; her mouth 
like a rosebud, that is just beginning to blow; 
and a fugitive dimple, would lighten and disap- 
pear; the finest passions were always passing in 
her face; and in her chestnut eyes there was a 
fluid fire, sufficient for half-a-dozen pair. — Amory. 
— [We will venture to affirm that this lassie was 
no " scavenger," sweeping the streets with her 
drapery. Her foot and ancle — we will vouch 
for it — were all in keeping with her lovely face. 
Oh, for a return to the " good old times ! " 

Epitaph on the Grave- stone of a Young 
Lady. — "Died of thin shoes, January, 183S."— 
[This epitaph might be inscribed on the grave- 
stones of one-fifth of the ladies of England. We 
insert it in this particular column, in order that 
it shall be perused.] 

"Maxims; " from the Arabic. — If the Pro- 
phet designs a man for a fool, he delivers him 
into the hands of a woman. — Man keeps the 
secrets of others better than his own ; woman, her 
own better than those of others. — Most women 
have few maxims; they follow their hearts; and 
in regard to morals, depend on those whom they 
love. — Many women are like enigmas; they 
cease to please as soon as they are known. — 
Patience is an art women seldom " learn," but 
ivhich they teach in a masterly manner. 

What is a " Sensation?" — T. O. U. are the 
vowels which create more disagreeable sensations 
in the minds of honest men than all the rest of 
the alphabet put together. When, however, they 
are read backwards, the " sensations " undergo a 
material change, and the said vowels become 

"Pastoral" Sympathy. — A sensibility, of 
which its objects are sometimes insensible. It may 
be perilous to discourage a feeling, whereof there 
is no great superabundance in this selfish and 
hard-hearted world; but even of the little that 
exists, a portion is frequently thrown away. Such 

is the power of adaptation in the human mind, 
that those who seem to be in the most pitiable 
plight, have often the least occasion for pity. A 
city damsel, whose ideas had been Arcadianised 
by the perusal of pastorals, having once made an 
excursion to a distance of twenty miles from 
London, wandered into the fields in the hope of dis- 
covering a bond fide live shepherd. To her 
infinite delight, she at length encountered one, 
under a hawthorn hedge in full blossom, with 
his dog by his side, his crook in his hand, and 
his sheep round about him, just as if he were 
sitting to be modelled in china for a chimney 
ornament. To be sure, he did not exhibit the 
azure jacket, jessamine vest, pink tiffany inex- 
pressibles, peach-colored stockings, and golden 
buckles of those faithful portraitures. This was 
mortifying; still more so, that he was neither 
particularly young nor cleanly; but, most of all, 
that he wanted the indispensable accompaniment 
of a pastoral reed, in order that he might beguile 
his solitude with the charms of music. Touched 
with pity at this privation, and lapsing, uncon- 
sciously, into poetical language, the civic damsel 
exclaimed — "Ah ! gentle shepherd, tell me 
where's your pipe? " — "I left it at home, Miss," 
replied the clown, scratching his head, " cause I 
lidnt got no baccy." 

" Striking" Proofs of "Affection " in our 
namesake, " wllliam " the conqueror — an 
Appalling "Fact." — The following extract 
from the life of the wife of the Conqueror is ex- 
ceedingly curious, as characteristic of the manners 
of a semi-civilised age and nation: — "After some 
years' delay, AVilliam appears to have become des- 
perate, and, if we may trust to the evidence of 
the Chronicle of Ingerbe, in the year 1047, way- 
laid Matilda in the streets of Bruges as she was 
returning from mass, seized he?; roiled her in the 
dirt, spoiled her rich array, and not content with 
these outrages, struck her repeatedly, and rode off 
at full speed. This Teutonic method of courtship, 
according to our author, brought the affair to a 
crisis; for Matilda, either convinced of the strength 
of William's passion by the violence of his 
behavior, or afraid of encountering a second beat- 
ing, consented to become his wife. How he ever 
presumed to enter her presence again, after such 
a series of enormities, the chronicler sayeth not, 
and we are at a loss to imagine." — Miss Strick- 
land. — [Oh, Miss Strickland, fie! fie!!] 


Let no one undervalue the importance of 
the domestic science of cookery, a science 
whose influence increases with the extension 
of our social complications. The pre-dispo- 
sition to indigestion with which all the 
children of this generation come into the 
world, and the stomach disease which com- 
mercial anxiety, literary irritation, and moral 
vexation are tending to produce in all classes 
of men, may both be ameliorated or pre- 
vented by a true understanding of the prin- 
ciples and applications of diet and cookery. 
In this age of overtaxed and fretted brains 




the importance of making the stomach suffi- 
ciently strong to support its double labor 
cannot by possibility be overrated. To the 
inexperienced, it may often seem that the 
prudent and abstemious man and child are 
more delicate than the careless and indis- 
criminate liver, because an infraction of their 
ordinary rules is sure to make them at once 
and visibly ill. The reason of this is — that 
the carefully-guarded stomach throws its 
ill usage oft* in an acute form on the out- 
works of the system, in some such shape 
as sick headache, while the habitually ill- 
treated digestive organs distribute their 
grievances throughout the citadel itself in 
sluggish chronic complaints. 


As flowers, that seem the light to shun, 

At evening's dusk and morning's haze, 
Expand beneath the noon-tide sun, 

And bloom to beauty in his rays, — 
So maidens, in a lover's eyes, 

A thousand times more lovely grow, 
Yield added sweetness to his sighs. 

And with unwonted graces glow. 

As gems from light their brilliance gain, 

And brightest shine when shone upon, 
Nor half their orient rays retain, 

When light wanes dim and day is gone: — 
So beauty beams, for one dear one ! 

Acquires fresh splendor in his sight, 
Her life — -her light — her day — her sun — 

Her harbinger of all that's bright! 

A Battue of Pigeons in America. 

M. Audubon makes the following curious 
estimate of the number of pigeons contained in 
one only of these mighty flocks. Taking a 
column of one mile in breadth, which he thinks 
is far below the average size, and supposing it 
to pass over without interruption for three hours, 
at the rate of one mile in a minute, it will give 
us a parallelogram of 180 miles by one, covering 
180 square miles. Allowing two pigeons to the 
square yard, we have 1,115,136,000 pigeons in 
one flock. .As each pigeon daily consumes fully 
half a pint of food, the quantity necessary for 
supplying this vast multitude must be 8,712,000 
bushels a day. Nor is the account of their roost- 
ing places less curious. One of them, on the 
banks of the Green River, Kentucky, was re- 
peatedly visited by M. Audubon. It was in a 
portion of the forest where the trees are of great 
magnitude, and where there was little underwood, 
and the average breadth was about three miles. 
On arriving there about two hours before sunset, 
few pigeons were to be seen. A great number of 
persons, however, with horses and wagons, guns 
and ammunition, had already established them- 
selves on the borders. Two farmers had driven 
upwards of 300 hogs from their residence, more 
than 100 miles distant, to be fattened on the 
pigeons that were to be slaughtered. The sun 
had set, yet not a pigeon had arrived. Every- 

thing, however, was ready, and all eyes were 
gazing on the clear sky, which appeared in 
glimpses above the tall trees. Suddenly there burst 
forth a general cry of " Here they come !" 
The noise which they made, though yet distant, 
is described as like a hard gale at sea passing 
through the rigging of a close-reefed vessel. As 
the birds arrived, they were knocked down by 
thousands by the pole-men. As they continued 
to pour in, the fires were lighted, and a magnifi- 
cent, as well as wonderful sight presented itself. 
The pigeons, arriving by myriads, alighted every- 
where, one above another, until solid masses, as 
large as hogsheads, were formed on the branches 
all round. Here and there the perches gave 
way under the weight, with a crash, and falling 
to the ground, destroyed hundreds of the birds 
beneath, forcing down the dense groups with 
which every stick was loaded. The pigeons kept 
consequently coming, and it was past midnight 
before a decrease in the numbers of those that 
arrived could be perceived. 

The noise made was so great, that it was dis- 
tinctly heard at three miles from the spot. To- 
wards the approach of day, the noise in some 
measure subsided, and long before objects were 
distinguishable, the pigeons began to move off in 
a direction quite different to that in which they 
had arrived the evening before, and at sunrise 
all that were able to fly had disappeared. — 
Jesse's Gleanings of Natural History. 


The trees are leafless, and the hollow blast 

Sings a shrill anthem to the bitter gloom. 
The lately smiling pastures are a waste, 

While beauty generates in Nature's womb ; 
The frowning clouds are charged with fleecy 

And storm and tempest bear a rival sway; 
Soft gurgling rivulets have ceased to flow, 

And beauty's garlands wither in decay: 
Yet look but heavenward ! beautiful and young 

In life and lustre, see the stars of night 
Untouch'd by time through ages roll along, 

And clear as when at first they burst to light — 
And then look from the stars, where heaven ap- 
Clad in the fertile Spring of everlasting years! 

The Butterfly. — In the Magazine of Natu- 
ral History, we read : — "I have lately observed a 
curious fact, that it is the tail of the caterpillar 
which becomes the head of the butterfly. The 
caterpillar weaves its web from its mouth, finishes 
with the head downwards, and the head, with 
the six front legs, are thrown off from the chry- 
salis, and may be found dried up, but quite dis- 
tinguishable,' at the bottom of the web. The 
butterfly comes out at the top." — C. 

London:— Published by George Berger, 19, Holywell 
Street, Strand (to whom all Letters and Communica- 
tions for the Editor, and Books for Review, are to be 
forwarded), and Procurable, by order, of every Book- 
seller and News-vendor in the Kingdom. 

London : Myers & Co., Printers, 22, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 


Conducted by WILLIAM KIBD, of Hammersmith,— 

Author op the Familiar and Popular Essays on "Natural History;" "British Song 

Birds;" "Birds op Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" 

" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c. 

"the OBJECT of our work is to make men WISER, WITHOUT obliging them to turn over FOLIOS and 
quartos.— to furnish mattkr for THINKING, as well as READING."— Evelyn. 

No. G.— 1852. 


Price l-$d. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price Id. 


We have " taken time by the forelock ;" 
and beginning from the First Month, we 
shall be able to notice everything connected 
with the feathered tribes that passes through- 
out the varied seasons of the year. 

February, we may mention, is a trying 
month both for man and beast, more parti- 
cularly in our latitudes. It is the signal for 
snow and frost, hail, sleet, and cutting 
winds. Nor is fog wanting to complete the 
picture of desolation. 

If we wander abroad for a walk, soon do 
the elements hasten our return home. If 
we sit within doors, soon do we feel 
gloomy. Yet is the sight of the driving- 
snow a pretty picture, falling as it does in 
a multitude of fantastic shapes. The reflec- 
tion, too, cast therefrom on the trees and 
hedges, lias a picturesque and curious effect 
on the landscape : — 

" See where the cherish'd fields 
Put on their winter robe of purest white. 
'Tis brightness all} save where the new snow 

Along the mazy current. Low the woods 
Bow their hoar head ; and ere the languid sun 
Faint from the west admits his evening ray, 
Earth's universal face, deep hid and chill, 
Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide 
The works of man.' 1 

'Tis now that we see large flocks of the 
feathered tribe, rendered bold by famine 
and cold, draw near to the dwellings of 
man, seeking among barns and farm-yards 
for what few seeds may have escaped from 
the straw and chaff. Our gardens, too, are 
the resort of many little pensioners, who, in 
the confidence of friendship, venture to hop 
on our breakfast table. At the present time 
of writing we are thus honored. One 
robin, in particular, and his lady, follow our 
footsteps whenever we quit the house. 

While winter thus holds all nature spell- 

bound, we will take advantage of the oppor- 
tunity to chat a little about Birds — the object 
of their creation, their structure, &c. The 
question is one of universal interest, and 
we shall pursue the inquiry with delight. 

Birds are unquestionably the most beau- 
tiful of the animated tribes ; they embellish 
our forests, and afford amusement in our 
walks ; Avhile their pleasures, their notes, 
and even their animosities, serve only to 
enliven the general face of nature, and to 
cheer the contemplative mind. In no part 
of the animal creation are the wisdom, the 
goodness, and bounty of Providence dis- 
played in a more lively manner, than in the 
formation and various endowments of the 
feathered tribes ; and whether we examine 
their elegance and symmetry, their beauty 
and delicacy of color, their peculiar habits 
and economy, we shall have sufficient cause 
for adoring the wisdom of their benevolent 

As birds are destined to move through 
the light medium of the air, they are far 
inferior both in weight and magnitude to 
quadrupeds : the largest bird, the ostrich, 
bears no proportion to the elephant ; nor 
does the humming bird, which nature has 
placed at the other extremity of this class, 
nearly approach to the size of a mouse. 
Nature, as she approximates the confines of 
each class, confers more and more of the 
properties of the adjoining one on each 
species ; till at last they so nearly unite, 
that it is often doubtful to what family an 
individual belongs. The ostrich, placed at 
the extremity of the birds, appears in many 
respects nearly allied to a superior class ; 
being covered with hair, like feathers, and 
incapable of flight, it makes a near ap- 
proach to the race of quadrupeds : while the 
small humming bird, of the size of a humble 
bee, and sucking, like it, the nectaries of 
flowers, seems to be degraded nearly to the 
rank of an insect. 

To compensate their want of strength, 
birds are supplied with swiftness ; and to 

Vol. I. — New Series. 



avoid those enemies which they are not 
fitted to oppose, they are endowed with the 
faculty of ascending into the air. They ap- 
pear, indeed, to be entirely formed for a life 
of escape, every part of their anatomy being- 
calculated for swiftness ; and, as they are 
designed to soar on high, all their parts are 
proportionably light. This leads us to con- 
sider more particularly the structure of 

The skeleton or bony frame of birds is, in 
general, of a lighter nature than in quadru- 
peds ; the spine is immoveable, but the neck 
lengthened and flexible : the breast-bone 
very large, with a prominent keel clown the 
middle, and formed for the attachment of 
very strong muscles. The bones of the 
wings are similar to those of the fore legs 
in quadrupeds, but the termination is in 
three joints or fingers only ; of which the 
exterior one is very short. What are com- 
monly called the legs, are analogous to the 
hind legs in quadrupeds, and they terminate 
in general in four toes, three of which are 
commonly directed forwards, and one back- 
wards ; but in some birds there are only 
two toes, in others, only three. All the 
bones in birds are much lighter, or with a 
larger cavity, than in quadrupeds. 

The feathers with which birds are covered, 
resemble in their nature the hair of quadru- 
peds, being composed of a similar substance 
appearing in a different form. " Every single 
feather," says Paley, "is a mechanical wonder. 
If Ave look at the quill, we find properties 
not easily brought together, — strength and 
lightness. I know few things more remark- 
able than the strength and lightness of the 
very pen with which I am now writing. If 
we cast our eye toward the upper part of 
the stem, we see a material made for the 
purpose, used in no other class of animals, 
and in no other part of birds; tough, light, 
pliant, -"elafeti'c'. 1 'The pith, ; also, which feeds 
the feathers, is neither bone, flesh, mem- 
brane, nor tendon. 

" But the most artificial part of a feather 
is the beard, or, as it is sometimes called, 
the vane ; which we usually strip off from 
one side, or both, when we make a pen. 
The separate pieces of which this is com- 
posed are called threads, filaments, or rays. 
Now the first thing which an attentive ob- 
server will remark is, how much stronger 
the beard of the feather shows itself to be 
when pressed in a direction perpendicular 
to its plane, than when rubbed either up or 
down the line of the stem ; and he will soon 
discover, that the threads of which these 
beards are composed are flat, and placed 
with their flat sides towards each other ; by 
which means, while they easily bend for the 
approaching of each other, as any one may 
perceive by drawing his finger ever so 

lightly upwards, they are much harder 
to bend out of their plane, which is the 
direction in which they have to encounter 
the impulse and pressure of the air, and in 
which their strength is wanted. It is also 
to be observed, that when two threads, 
separated by accident or force, are brought 
together again, they immediately reclasp. 
Draw your finger down the feather, which is 
against the grain, and you break, probably, 
the junction of some of the contiguous 
threads ; draw your ringer up the feather, 
and you restore all things to their former 

" It is no common mechanism'by which 
this contrivance is effected. The threads 
or laminae above mentioned are interlaced 
with one another ; and the interlacing is 
performed by means of a vast number of 
fibres or teeth which the threads shoot forth 
on each side, and which hook and grapple 

" Fifty of these fibres have been counted 
in one-twentieth of an inch. They are 
crooked, but curved after a different man- 
ner; for those which proceed from the 
thread on the side toward the extremity of 
the feather are longer, more flexible, and 
bent downward ; whereas those which pro- 
ceed from the side toward the beginning or 
quill-end of the feather, are shorter, firmer, 
and turned upward. When two lamina?, 
therefore, are pressed together, the crooked 
parts of the long fibres fall into the cavity 
made by the crooked parts of the others ; 
just as the latch which is fastened to a door 
enters into the cavity of the catch fixed to 
the door-post, and there hooking itself, 
fastens the door ! " 

Beneath, or under the common feathers or 
general plumage, the skin in birds is imme- 
diately covered with a much finer or softer 
feathery substance, called down. The throaty 
after passing down to a certain distance, 
dilates itself into a large membraceous bag, 
answering to the stomach in quadrupeds ; it 
is called the crop, and its great use is to 
soften the food taken into it in order to pre- 
pare it for passing into another strong re- 
ceptacle, called the gizzard. This, which 
may be considered as a more powerful sto- 
mach, consists of two very strong muscles, 
lined and covered with a strong tendinous 
coat, and furrowed on the inside.* In this 
receptacle the food is completely ground and 
reduced to a pulp. The lungs of birds differ 
from those of quadrupeds in not being 
loose or free in the breast, but fixed to the 
bones all the way down : — they consist of a 
pair of large spongy bodies, covered with 

* In the birds of prey, or accipitres, this is wanting 1 , 
the stomach being allied to that of quadrupeds. 


a membrane, which is pierced in several 
places, and communicates with several large 
vesicles or air-bags, dispersed about the 
cavities of the body. 

The eyes of birds are more or less convex 
in the different tribes ; and, in general, it 
may be observed that the sense of sight is 
more acute in birds than in most other ani- 
mals. Birds have no outward ear, but the 
internal one is formed on the same general 
plan as in quadrupeds. Birds are oviparous 
animals, always producing eggs, from which 
the young are afterwards excluded. The 
first appearance of the young, as an orga- 
nised body, begins to be visible in six hours 
after the egg has been placed in a proper 
degree of heat, under the parent animal. 
The chick, or young bird, when arrived at 
its full size, and ready for hatching, is, by 
nature, provided with a small and hard pro- 
tuberance at the tip of the bill, by which it 
is enabled the more readily to break the 
shell, and which falls off some hours after 
its hatching. 

From the diminutive size and slender 
conformation of birds, we might be led to 
suppose, that the duration of their life 
would prove but short : the reverse, how- 
ever, is the case : their longevity far ex- 
ceeds that of quadrupeds, and even of man 
himself. The common cock has been known 
to live upwards of twenty years ; a linnet, 
fourteen ; bullfinches, twenty ; parrots are 
said to live forty years, geese fourscore : of 
swans, eagles, and ravens, there are various 
reports ; some have asserted, that they lived 
one hundred years, others double and even 
three times- that period ; but of this there 
are few well-attested examples. 

Here we must halt for a little week. 


Reason and Instinct Definitively Separated. 
By Gordonius. 18mo. 

As we have ourselves gone so very fully 
into this ever-popular inquiry, we need only 
say of this little brochure, that it handles 
the matter cleverly ; and that it fearlessly 
discloses all the author's ideas on instinct 
and reason in animals. 

The proposition that there must be a se- 
paration between the two is well maintained ; 
and no person can read the volume without 
a conviction that the author has fairly 
proved his case. He has collected, more- 
over, many curious matters that serve to 
throw a light on questions which have 
hitherto been considered " doubtful ; " and 
altogether he has claims on public attention 
that must procure him a hearing. 

As the burden of this little book is to 
prove what we have already proved, we wiUj 

on the present occasion, merely select a short 
chapter to show the author's style. It is 
headed — attention. 

The brutes have this faculty (for I believe I 
may here properly use the word) much stronger 
than man. To the smaller kind, it serves as a 
protection from danger; and to the larger as a 
help to discover its prey. The cat has it most 
peculiarly fine ; for, though it is remarkably fond 
of sleep, one cannot say that it is ever in that 
state. It only dozes, and even that very lightly, 
for it is then all attention; and, if a strange foot 
enter, or a strange voice speak, you shall see an 
ear turn partly back — plainly indicating that it is 
not what we call asleep. The brutes generally, 
indeed, rather slumber than sleep, and their at- 
tention is easily aroused, and quickly on the 

This attention is usually helped by a great 
quickness of sight and hearing. It is only by an 
instantaneous bound, that the cat can take birds ; 
for, though engaged in feeding, they can see any 
ordinary advance. Where the eyes are stationary, 
as in some insects, they are furnished with many, 
for seeing in all directions — the common spider 
has eight, but other insects are found with a 
much greater number. Such aids are, however, 
more with a view to protection ; for they are not 
necessary adjuncts to attention, as is proved by 
the horse, whose sight is often very indifferent. 
When standing motionless under a cart, before a 
house, for an hour together, it will instantly pro- 
ceed on hearing the usual command to go on. 
Among the brutes, there is nothing resembling our 
" absence of mind." This is of great importance 
to the present investigation, as it seems to prove, 
if any proof were wanting, that they do not think. 
If they had thought, they must have reason too, 
but that is confined to man. 

We shall, no doubt, very frequently have 
to take "a leaf " out of this sensible little 

Flora Tottoniensis ; a Catalogue of the 
Flowering Plants and Ferns growing wild 
in the vicinity of Totnes. By .Samuel Han- 
naford, Jun. i.u „ 

This is a very carefully-compiled Cata- 
logue, and reflects much credit on its editor, 
who handsomely acknowledges his obliga- 
tions to the many zealous botanists who 
have assisted him in exploring the neigh- 
borhood of Totnes. 

It comprises the Flowering Plants and 
Ferns growing wild in the neighborhood 
of Totnes within a circuit of six miles, and 
has been prepared with the hope that it may 
prove of assistance to Botanists ; and by 
having the habitats of nearly 500 Flowers 
fixed, induce many, who are at present un- 
acquainted with Botany and the beautiful 
field of nature which their own country pre- 
sents, to study so healthful and pleasing a 

" As it is possible," says the editor, " that 
some few plants may have been overlooked, 

and with the view hereafter to make the 
Flora of the neighborhood complete, it is 
particularly requested that information of 
the discovery of any new or rare Plant, be 
sent to the Editor, with the habitat and date 
when gathered, accompanied, when con- 
venient, by a specimen of the plant." 

This is the direct means of carrying out, 
fully, the editor's laudable effort ; and we 
trust the appeal will be responded to. 

The Steam-Engine. By Hugo Eeid. Illus- 
trated by Forty Wood Engravings. Third 
Edition, Enlarged. 12mo. Groombridge 
and Sons. 

There need be little surprise that a volume 
like this should speedily attain a third 
edition. The low price, and popular form, 
in which scientific works are now brought 
before the public, ensure their success ; and 
the publishers get their reward in the large 
additional quantities disposed of. 

It will not do now, for any of us to plead 
ignorance of the nature, object, and powers 
of the Steam-engine. We meet one every- 
where ; we hear it, we see it ; we sit behind 
it, and it flies off with us at a rate that would 
have driven our forefathers crazy. Still, 
we have yet much to learn about its interior, 
— how it is constructed, how it acts ; and 
whereby it acquires its terrific powers for 
good or for evil. 

All who are seeking for such information 
must procure this book ; it will neither puz- 
zle nor confound them. On the contrary, 
they will find themselves materially benefited 
and instructed. 

As we are great avowed advocates for 
Popular Science, we have pleasure in bring- 
ing under the eye of the general reader, the 
following — 

Description op the Steam-Engine. 

The Steam-Engine is a machine for the pro- 
duction of motion, in which steam (the vapor 
of boiling water) is used. A machine (from the 
Greek mechane, through the Latin machind) in 
the sense now generally understood, means a 
contrivance for applying to some object a continu- 
ous and regular motion, as a spinning wheel, a 
loom, a w r atch or clock. If we choose to extend 
the term so as to include such contrivances as a 
gun, a mortar, a bow and arrow, a sling, we 
must at all events carefully distinguish between 
those which give a continuous and regulated move- 
ment, and those which give a sudden, irregular, 
and quickly terminated impulse. The Steam- 
Engine is a sort of primary machine, the object of 
which is the production of force, or moving power, 
by means of which continuous motion may be 
communicated to other bodies — as the wheels of 
a carriage ; paddles or oars for propelling vessels 
on water; the rod of a pump for raising water; 
grindstones for reducing bodies to powder; 
machinery for spinning, weaving, turning, ham- 
mering, boring, communicating pressure, &c. 

Motion is the general object of all machines • 

and, in every description of machinery, there are 
two parts which must be carefully distinguished : 
— First, The machinery which comes into im- 
mediate contact with the substance : to effect some 
change upon which is the ultimate object of the 
operation ; Second, The engine, or great machine, 
which sets that lesser machinery in motion. The 
latter is called the first mover, first moving 
power, or prime mover. The prime mover pro- 
duces the motion; the secondary machinery ap- 
plies it. 

In a common turning lathe, or in the case of 
the hand-pump for raising water ; in the wind- 
mill or the water-wheel for moving a grindstone ; 
the man who, by his muscular power, sets the 
turning lathe in motion, or works the handle of 
the pump; the vanes of the windmill; and 
the water-wheel — are the first movers. It is 
in these that the motion commences — their object 
being simply the production of moving power, 
which has to be transmitted from them to the 
machinery which comes into immediate contact 
with the wood to be turned, the water to be 
raised, or the corn to be ground. 

The steam-engine is a first or prime mover. 

In every case of the production of motion by 
machinery, the first mover is simply an engine, 
or machine, so constructed as to take advantage 
of some natural properties of bodies which are 
capable of giving rise to motion. In describing 
the steam-engine, then, there are two things to 
be considered: — First, Those natural powers 
resident in bodies from which we procure a force, 
or moving power; Second, The machine, or 
engine, by winch those powers are made effective 
for the general production of motion. We shall 
first direct our attention to the former — the 
source and mode of action of the natural forces, 
which, in the steam-engine, give rise to the 

Infinitely various as the different kinds of 
power may at first sight appear, and however 
complex the machinery by which they are ap- 
plied so as to produce motion ; upon analysing 
them, it will be found that there are only three 
sources from which we can obtain a force or mov- 
ing power — animal strength, attraction, and 


Of these, the first and most obvious, and the 
only one within reach of man in the rude or 
savage state, — or indeed the only one at his com- 
mand without considerable progress in the arts, 
— is the muscular power of animals, or, as 
it is frequently called, animal strength. This 
source of power resides in the muscles — long, 
fleshy bodies of a fibrous structure, fixed at each 
extremity, and possessed of the property of con- 
tracting (diminishing in length), in obedience to 
the will of the animal. By this contractile 
power, the more moveable of the points to which 
the extremities of the muscle are attached, is 
made to approach the other. These muscles 
arc possessed of great strength, being capable, as 
has sometimes happened, of breaking the bone 
to which they are attached. We have familiar 
examples of the application of this power, in the 
plough, carts, and carriages, canal-boats, horse and 
cattle mills, all set in motion, and continued in 
that state by the contractile power of the muscles 
of animals. * The muscular force of man himself, 



too, has been used as a source of power. It is 
to be hoped, however, that the steam-engine will 
ultimately everywhere supersede the employment 
of man as a means of mere animal strength; and 
enable him to limit the exercise of his muscular 
power to those cases where tact, skill, delicacy of 
adjustment and adaptation to varying circum- 
stances, are required — where the superior power 
of an intelligent being, which no machine can 
imitate, is called into play: in short, that man 
shall cease or abate the direct exercise of brute 
force, and employ himself in the higher operation 
of guiding and controlling it. 

This power is not made use of in the steam- 
engine ; but the power of an engine is generally 
estimated by a measure of force derived originally 
from comparison with the number of horses that 
would be required to do the same work — the first 
steam-engines having been used chiefly as substi- 
tutes for horse labor. 

The other two sources of moving power are — 
First, The attraction which exists between 
bodies, and tends to make them approach each 
other; and, Second, The Repulsive Power, 
which exists, more or less, in all bodies, and tends 
to drive their particles asunder. These influences 
are universally diffused through bodies, and are 
antagonists — i. e., opposed to each other in their 
action. To the operation of these fundamental 
properties of matter, all the phenomena of inani- 
mate nature can be traced ; and animate beings, 
though endowed with the independent principle of 
life, are in no small degree subject to their control 
while living, and when dead are solely obedient 
to the laws of these great powers. 

They act with great energy, and both have 
been used as sources of power in the steam- 
engine. The first is applied in some kinds of 
engines only (now called atmospheric engines) ; 
the latter, either applied directly as a moving 
power, or used to prepare for the action of the 
attractive force, has been a leading element in 
the operation of every sort of steam-engine; and 
as steam is the medium through which the repul- 
sive power is introduced, all are called steam- 
engines, although the steam may not be the direct 
cause of the motion. At first they were termed 
fire-engines, the steam being formed by the action 
of fire upon water. 

The attractive force was taken advantage of 
by man, as a moving poAver — as in the water- 
wheel, the windmill, the common pump — long 
before the repulsive principle was applied, or even 
thought of, as a source of motion. Now, Iioav- 
ever, this great power, so long overlooked, has 
almost entirely superseded the other ; acting in 
the form of steam, it is seen everywhere, and is 
the prime mover chiefly employed by civilised 
nations of modern times. For ages a hidden 
treasure, it has at last been brought to light; and 
has placed Avithin the reach of mankind a force 
so enormous, that it is limited only by the strength 
of the materials Avhich must be employed to give 
it effect; a power unremitting in its labors, and 
universal in its application ; so versatile, that it 
may be transferred from place to place, worked 
at any time, and suspended or set in action again 
at a moment's Avarning; — and Avithal so steady 
and regular, so completely under our control, and 
possessed of a self-regulating property to such an 

extraordinary extent, 'that it almost realises the 
fable of Prometheus, and may fitly be compared 
to an intelligent being devoted to our service. 
The repulsive energy is the source of the power 
of gunpowder as Avell as that of steam ; so that, 
when we consider the great change effected by 
the use of gunpoAvdcr in Avarfare, and the vast 
and various influences of the steam-engine, this 
remarkable principle may be said to have twice 
reA r olutionised the Avorld. 

After a perusal of the above, Ave hardly need 
carry our " Letter of Recommendation " any 

Notes for Naturalists. 

One feature Avhich will mark 1851 Avith a 
A\'hite stone in the calendar of Naturalists, Avas 
the arrival of the first living Apteryx in this he- 
misphere. The wing of the Apteryx Australis is 
scarcely more than rudimentary, but has a strong 
hooked claw at its extremity, and the feathers 
of this species resemble, in their general cha- 
racter, those of the cassoAvary. We paid a visit 
to the stranger a few days ago, and found him 
reposing Avith his head on his side — in other birds 
it Avould have been under his Aving; but, Avith 
becoming delicacy of feeling, he endeavored to 
conceal his infirmity by giving the motion as if 
he had a wing. Presently, he started, and stretch- 
ed himself up almost to a fabulous height; then 
sloAvly toppled forward, and gravely rested his 
beak on the ground. This attitude is necessary 
for the preservation of equilibrium, as the legs 
arc placed quite behind the centre of gravity; 
sturdy legs however they are , and formidable 
the bloAvs the bird can inflict, not by kicking 
behind, but by a foi'Avard stroke — the spur on 
the heel cutting like a knife. The favorite lo- 
calities of this bird are dense beds of fern ; and 
when hard pressed by dogs (with Avhich he is 
usually chased), it takes refuge in deep holes ex- 
cavated by it in the ground. It is hunted by 
torchlight, and is sought after Avith great avidity 
by the natives, the skin being highly prized for 
dresses worn by the native chiefs; the feathers 
are also used to construct artificial flies for the 
capture of fish, precisely after the European 
fashion. Not the least of its peculiarities is the 
position of its nostrils at the tip of the beak. In 
seeking for the Avorms Avhich constitute its food, 
the sense of smell takes the place of that of sight, 
and the dexterity AvitliAvhich it seizes its active 
prey, deep beneath the surface, is remarkable. 

Another species is known, Avhich has been call- 
ed by Mr. Gould Apteryx Owenii, after Professor 
Owen. Stuffed specimens are in the museums 
at York, Ipswich, and the British Museum, also, 
Ave believe. This species is very thickly clothed 
Avith short feathers, transversely barred. A third 
species has been described by Mr. Bartictt, which 
he considers to be the true Apteryx Australis, 
giving the name A. Mantelli to that figured by 
Mr. Gould. 

Mr. Wallace has communicated to the Zoolo- 
gical Society some interesting particulars relative 
to that singular bird the "Umbrella Bird," inhabit- 
ing the island of the Amazon, in South America. 


It is about the size of a crow, and black ; but its 
head is adorned with a crest the most fully de- 
veloped and beautiful of any bird known, whence 
its name cephalopterus ornalus. When fully 
opened, the crest radiates on all sides from the 
top of the head, reaching in front beyond the beak, 
and forming a perfect slightly elevated dome of a 
beautiful shining blue color, in length about five 
inches, in breadth about four-and-a-half. When 
flying, the crest is laid back, but when at rest in 
the daytime, it is fully expanded; but at night, 
when the bird is asleep, all the feathers are puffed 
out to their fullest extent, so that the head and 
feet are quite invisible, the plume and crest alone 
being conspicuous, amidst a mass of feather, 
giving the bird a most singular appearance. 

The public generally, are not, we believe, 
aware that the glorious collection of humming 
birds formed by Mr. Gould (and which, thanks 
to Lord Seymour, is at present not exhibited), is 
but subservient to the publication of a work de- 
voted to their description — a work which, for pic- 
torial beauty, has not seen its equal. We espe- 
cially call attention to the part just published, as 
a perfect marvel for brilliancy of those ever- 
changing metallic hues characteristic of the tribe, 
and for extreme fidelity. 

There has been much doubt in the minds of 
many scientific men as to whether the accounts 
which have from time to time appeared of the 
poisonous effects produced by the sharp spines 
with which certain fishes are armed, have not 
been exaggerated. The following incident, re- 
lated by Mr. Mac'Gillivray, the naturalist, dur- 
ing the recent expedition of H.M.S. Rattlesnake, 
is therefore highly valuable, as affording un- 
impeachable testimony to the fact : — " During 
the afternoon, one of the crew of a boat upon 
the reef, while incautiously handling a frog-fish 
(atrachus), which he had found under a stone, 
received two punctures at the base of the thumb, 
from the sharp dorsal spines, partially concealed 
by the skin. Immediately severe pain was pro- 
duced, which quickly increased, until it became 
intolerable, and the man lay down and rolled 
about in agony. He was taken on board the 
ship, in a state of great weakness. The hand 
was considerably swollen, with the pain shooting 
up the arm to the axilla, but the glands there did 
not become affected. The pulse fell as low as 
forty beats in the minute, with a constant desire 
to vomit. Large doses of opium in the course of 
time afforded relief; but a fortnight elapsed be- 
fore the man was again fit for duty.'* — (JFrom the 


We gave in our last, a singular anecdote 
of the robin ; illustrating the friendship of one, 
and the ferocity of another. 

We have many other anecdotes of the 
robin preparing, full of the greatest interest. 
To-day, we select one or two anecdotes re- 
lating to their pugnacity. They are taken 
from the Natural History of Ireland, a book 

just ''published, written by William Thomp- 
son, Esq., of Belfast. 

"Well known," says Mr. Thompson, " as 
is the pugnacity of robins, one or two in- 
stances may be given. Their being so 
wholly absorbed during combat as to be re- 
gardless of all else, was ludicrously evinced 
at Springvale, by a pair righting from the 
air downwards to the earth, until they disap- 
peared in a man's hat that happened to be 
lying on the ground, and in which they were 
both captured. On one occasion, two of 
these birds, caught fighting in a yard in Bel- 
fast, were kept all night in separate cages. 
One was given its liberty early in the morn- 
ing; and the other, being tamer, possibly 
from having been the better beaten of the 
two, was kept with the intention of being 
permanently retained. So unhappy, how- 
ever, did the prisoner look, that it too was set 
at liberty in the yard, which Avas believed 
to be its chosen domicile. The other came a 
second time, and attacked it ; when my in- 
formant, who was present, hastened to the 
rescue, and the wilder bird flew away. The 
tamer one was again caught, and brought 
into the house for safety. The intruder 
was now driven out of the premises ; and in 
the evening, when it was expected that he 
was in a different locality, the other bird 
was turned out ; its wicked and pertinacious 
antagonist, however, still lay in loait, a third 
time attacked, and then killed it. The 
tame bird, though inferior to the other in 
strength, always joined issue with it, and 
fought to the best of its poor ability. 

" Some years ago, at Merville (co. An- 
trim), a robin kept possession of the green- 
house, and killed every intruder of its own 
species, amounting to about two dozen, that 
entered the house. This had been so fre- 
quently done, that my informant became 
curious to know the means resorted to for 
the purpose; and, on examination of two or 
three of the victims, he found a deep wound 
hi the neck of each, evidently made by the 
bill of the slayer. The lady of the house, 
hearing of the bird's cruelty, had the sharp 
point of its beak cut off, and no more of its 
brethren were afterwards slaughtered ; but 
it did not itself survive this slight muti- 

"The following came under my own ob- 
servation at Wolfhill : Two robins, fighting 
most wickedly in the air, alighted to take 
breath ; having recovered a little, and ap- 
proached within a foot of each other to re- 
commence the charge, a duck that had wit- 
nessed the combat quickly waddled up, and, in 
the most gentle and pacific manner, shoved with 
its bill one to the right and the other to the 
left, thus separating them, evidently to prevent 
a renewal of the conflict. 

" Having alluded to their evil propensities, 



the following note must be introduced : Mr. 
Poole, having a slate-trap once set for birds, 
saw, on going up to it, a robin perched 
outside. On opening the trap, one of these 
birds was found within. It was carried off; 
and the other, with amiable intent (!) fol- 
lowed the captor of its companion (as it was 
presumed) even into the house.' 1 '' 

It will be seen by the above, that Mr. 
Thompson's observation goes to prove the 
kindly feeling of the duck, who interfered to 
put an end to hostilities. We like to record 
this emphatically, because it suggests a good 
example worth following. We cannot too 
narrowly watch the natural disposition of 
animals. Some of them are truly amiable, 
as in the present instance. 

To the Robin Redbreast, 

" Exchange no Robbery." 

Welcome ! sweet chorister, in crimson vest ; 
Come to my home, thou'lt find no warmer nest : 
Wilt thou not dwell with me, an honor'd guest? 

Winter proclaims, through every barren tree, 
That leafless branches will not shelter thee ; 
Still, from thy British-home thou dost not flee! 

The ice-bound streams refuse their kind supply, 
Frost seals the ground ; and hunger's thrilling 

Tells thee to make a bold demand, or die! 

Then whistle at my casement all day long; 
Heed not the passer-by, nor giddy throng ; 
I'll give thee food, thou shalt give me thy song ! 

C. H. D. 


" It was a common practice," says Mr. 
Thompson, in his Natural History of Ireland, 
" in a spacious yard in Belfast, to lay trains of 
corn for sparrows, and to shoot them from a 
window, which was only so far open as to 
afford room for the muzzle of the gun ; nei- 
ther the instrument of destruction, nor the 
shooter being visible from the outside. A 
tame raven, which was a nestling when 
brought to the yard, and probably had never 
seen a shot fired, afforded evidence that it 
understood the whole affair. When any one 
appeared carrying a gun across the yard, 
towards the house from which the sparrows 
were fired at, the raven exhibited the utmost 
alarm, by hurrying off with all possible speed, 
but in a ludicrously awkward gait, to hide 
itself, screaming loudly all the while. Though 
alarmed for its own safety, this bird always 
concealed itself near to, and within view of, 
the field of action ; the shot was hardly fired, 
when it dashed out from its retreat, and 

seizing one of the dead or wounded sparrows, 
hurried back to its hiding-place. I have 
repeatedly witnessed the whole scene. The 
raven's portion of the sparrows was as duly 
exacted, as the tithe of the quails killed 
during their migration at Capri, in the bay 
of Naples, is said to be by the bishop of that 

The Ages Passed Away. 

By 11. V. Sankey. 

Where, where are they who gaily lived 

In ages pass'd away ? 
Whose memories have scarce survived 

Those ages pass'd away? 
When beauty smiled, 
And thus beguiled 
With magic power, 
Each tedious hour, 

In ages pass'd away. 
Ah where, ah where have they now fled, 
Who round them such a lustre shed 

In ages pass'd away? 

Who crowded to the festive scene, 

In ages pass'd away? 
Or danced upon the village green, 

In ages pass'd away? 
When hearts beat light, 
And eyes beamed bright ; 
And joy and mirth, 
Sped through the earth 

In ages pass'd away? 
Where, where are they, who swelled the tide 
Of honor, fame, and lordly pride, 

.In ages pass'd away? 

Where, where are they who till'd the ground, 

In ages pass'd away? 
Which autumn's golden harvests crown'd 
In ages pass'd away? 
When shepherds sung, 
And gaily rung 
Through wood and grove, 
Soft tales of love, 

In ages pass'd away? 
Alas, they sleep — to rise no more ! 
Yet we live, as they lived before 

In ages pass'd away ! 

Strange Viper.— -In the Akhbour of Algiers, 
we read that a hairy viper was observed a few 
days before in the environs of Drariah, coiled 
round a tree. It resembled an enormous cater- 
pillar, and was of a brownish red color. Its 
length, was about 22 inches. The moment it saw 
that it was observed, it glided into the brushwood, 
and all attempts to discover it were unavailing. 
The authorities of the Museum of Natural 
History of Paris have sent off orders to their 
agents in Algiers, to spare no exertion to get a 
specimen of the viper. Should they succeeed 
in getting it — we hope they may! — they will 
oblige by informing Kidd's Journal of it, by 
electric telegraph. 



J. Norman.— Your address is written so illegibly, that 
we cannot communicate with you till we hear again. 

A. Brooks.— Your bird is a valuable one, and worth 
what you assess it at. It is only a " fancier," however, 
that would become a purchaser. 

T. Hughes.— Thanks for your kind suggestions. We 
have already in vieAV what you propose ; but the ques- 
tion of wood engravings must stand over for the pre- 
sent. The information you offer about the "Art of 
Stuffing and Preserving Birds," scarcely comes within 
our scope ; at all events, just now. 

J. Taylor.— Address the Secretary of theLinnaean Society, 
32, Soho Square, yourself. We have written to him 
for you, but no reply has been sent to us. 

N. R. — For particulars "to catch sparrows in large num- 
bers," we refer you to any of the bird-dealers in the 
Seven Dials. 

E, C— Our space is so circumscribed, that "Fugitive 
Poetry " can only be admissible under very peculiar 
circumstances. We are already overwhelmed with 
similar "kind offerings." This "reply" will suffice 
for all the writers. Their favors have merit, and 
would be readily available in a Monthly Magazine. 

New Subscribers, and Casual Readers, are referred to 
the Leading Article in our First Number for the 
detailed objects of the London Journal : to these 
we shall rigidly adhere. 

Private Letters. — Of these Ave daily receive such 
immense quantities, that we must really beg the 
writers to excuse our not replying to them. Our time 
is more profitably occupied. All vacancies, as they arc 
called, are filled up. Let this general answer suffice. 

Correspondents sending in any " facts" connected with 
Science or Natural History, are requested in every 
case to append their names and places of abode. In no 
instance, however, will their names be published with- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others. — It having been 
deemed expedient, to meet the views of the Trade, that 
this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
tion, Contributors and others will be so kind as to 
bear in mind that they must give us an extra " week's 
grace," and wait patiently till their favors appear. 

All persons who may send in MSS., but which may not 
be " accepted," arc requested to preserve copies of 
them, as the Editor cannot hold himself responsible 
for their return. 

To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
need only order it to be sent to them by any of their 
local Booksellers or Newsvendors. It is published 
simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 


Saturday, February 7, 1852. 

We have already given a passing " hint " 
about the nature of our daily duties — more 
particularly those duties connected with the 
examination of " Correspondence " in our 
Letter-box — or as, WE call it, the " Lion's 

The "whip of small cords" that we re- 
cently administered to the backs of certain 
small-fry, who deluged us with their " Odes 
to Chirping Grasshoppers," "Lines on Love- 
able Lilies," and " Addresses to a Monkey," 
&c. — have had some effect; and as yet, they 
slumber. Like " Victorine," they " sleep on 
it." May their muse never awaken, whilst 
we are above ground ! 

We are now beset by another class. It 
seems, " Our Work is thought excellent — 
everybody likes it — everybody is loud in its 
praise ; hit " This " but " involves mat- 
ter for serious consideration ; no less than 


our throwing up the reins Editorial 
others to drive our team. 

We don't go the " slapping pace," we are 
told. We ought, says one, " to give more 
Tales every week : " another says, "Jill it 
with matter referring to birds only ; " while 
a fourth, fifth, and sixth propose " an 
immense increase of fun, anecdote, and fic- 
tion ; " and a seventh would have it " entirely, 
or nearly so, devoted to the drama ! " An 
eighth, Ave may add, condemns altogether 
the moral tone of our London Journal, 
and advises that "all sober reflections, and 
quotations from Shakspeare, be hereafter es- 
chewed!" This is " rich," as well as " rare." 
We trust, and hope, we have few such readers 
as this worthy, bestriding us. Like the " Old 
Man of the Sea," spoken of by Sinbad the 
Sailor, he would ricle us to death. 

Here are a pretty set of coachmen, truly ! 
and no doubt, if the " ribbons " were placed 
in their hands, they would "drive" at a 
" slapping pace." We believe it. 

We must whisper in the ears of these 
charioteers, that ours is the "safety coach;" 
well horsed, but carefully driven. We can 
get over the ground at a very fair speed, 
but we never try the gallop hard! W~e 
dread an " upset." We are the Proprietor ! 

However, as we like to give " a reason " 
for all we advance, let us bring under the 
notice of these " fast " coachmen the case 
of one Phaeton, son of Phoebus (or Apollo), 
who coaxed his father (after dinner, no doubt), 
to let him for one day drive the chariot of 
the Sun. We see him now, giving his papa 
a filial poke in the ribs : and on the cosey 
old gentleman saying, " D-o-n-t ! " — we can 
hear him replying, " Now, do Pa ! only for 
ONE day ! " 

Overcome by the persuasive eloquence of 
his boy — a " spoilt child " that, no doubt — 
the father in an unlucky moment, swore by 
the Styx (a fearful oath) " to grant him any 
request he might ask." Now for the " ob- 
ject " of this Article, on which we shall offer 
no further comment. 

Phaeton boldly demanded permission for 
one day, to drive his father -s chariot. Phoebus 
represented the impropriety of such a re- 
quest, and also the dangers to which his son 
would be exposed. All was in vain. The 
oath was inviolable ; Phaeton unmoved ; the 
horses were harnessed ; and away the chariot 
flew, at " a slapping pace ! " 

No sooner had Phoebus received "the 
ribbons " from his father, with ample in- 
structions for the journey, than his ignorance 
and incapacity for the task became painfully 
evident. The steeds were touched upon the 
" raw," and bolted. Old Phoebus tore his hair, 
and swooned away. Plow could he less ? 

As for Phaeton and his flying horses, they 
were " all in a heap." The driver could 



not keep his nags together for a moment ; 
find being " up to the dodge," they imme- 
diately quitted their usual track, and kicked 
up their heels in a state of frenzy and dismay. 
" A short reign and a merry one," thought 
Phaeton. He had it. 

Already were heaven and earth threatened 
with an universal conflagration, when Jupi- 
ter, who had perceived the disorder of the 
horses of the Sun, struck the rider with one 
of his thunderbolts, and hurled him headlong 
into the Yellow Sea. 

Now for the climax. According to the 
Poets, while Phaeton was thus recklessly 
driving his father's chariot, he drove so very 
close to the wind, or rather to the earth, 
that the blood of the Ethiopians was dried up, 
and their skin became black — A color which 


A cry, — a vociferous outcry from the in- 
habitants of Liverpool, haunts us ; and we 
must let the refrain of our grief tingle in 
the ears of the Booksellers and News- 
vendors of that great town-ship. It seems, 
the demand in Liverpool and its vicinity for 
our London Journal is " enormous." We 
know it to be so ; for we have a friend there, 
who, we imagine, never slumbers nor sleeps 
in his intense zeal for our welfare. He has 
caused so very many thousands of our Cir- 
culars to be distributed in and around the 
town, that our name has positively become 
" immortalised" there ; and yet, Messieurs, the 
Booksellers, will not keep a supply sufficient 
to answer even the demand. This excessive 
timidity must surely arise from their ig- 
norance of our natural disposition, v Let 
them, then, take our written guarantee, that 
if they will only order freely, and do us 
fair service, we will re-purchase of them, 


At present we are "burked," — positively 
" burked" in Liverpool. The Liverpudlians 
tell us so. Instead of three thousand copies, 
there is a demand for at least six thousand ; 
and we hope soon to treble even that 

Another complaint is, that our numbers 
" are not received till nearly a week after 
they are due ! " Let us here distinctly 
state, and so exonerate ourselves — that 
every Tuesday Evening our publisher, 
Mr. Berger, has been, and will be prepared 
to furnish the current week's number, 
dated " Saturday" (in advance), in any 
quantity, from one to fifteen thousand 


Part. I was issued on the 24th of Janu- 
ary, and is already nearly out of print. 

Men of Liverpool — 
"Awake! — Arise! or be for ever fallen," 

in the estimation of the Proprietor of 
" Kidd's London Journal." 


Australian Par roquet. — I would suggest to your 
correspondent, F. A. (see p. 26), to remove the 
tumor from her suffering bird, by gradually 
tightening a piece of thread round it. This 
should be done close to the wing, and it should 
remain until the tumor decays. The pain given 
would be very trifling. A friend of mine, whose 
bird was suffering from a similar infliction, was 
thus cured. The tumor was as big as a hen's 
egg; but it was entirely removed. — C. P. 

African Parrot. — Your correspondent, W. S. 
(see p. 43), may save his bird by keeping it warm, 
and covering it up at night with flannel. Its 
food should be bread, slightly moistened with 
water, and occasionally a few chilies. No other 
diet is needful. I have now in my possession 
an African parrot, which is in perfect health, — 
entirely owing to the above simple treatment. 
The same dietary was adopted on board the 
vessel which brought over my bird, with 100 
other parrots, — not one of which perished on the 
voyage. — C. P. 

Proper Food for Thrushes. — I have four 
thrushes; but the food I give them does not seem 
to agree with them. What zV the proper food? 
— G. C. G. 

[The best food is German Paste (bought at 
Clifford's, 24, Great St. Andrew's St., Hol- 
born— no other is genuine), and stale bread; 
rubbed with it, but not too small. A snail, a 
bit of raw beef, and a meal-worm or two occa- 
sionally, will keep your birds " well " and in 
fine song.] 

Propagation of Eels.— Your introduction of 
this question into the London Journal has set 
us old fishermen all agog, to get at the truth of 
the matter. From all we can learn, and we have 
made diligent inquiry in all likely quarters, Mr. 
Boccius has indeed found "a mare's nest." The 
spawn of an eel may do to "talk about;" but 
who ever saw it ? I am pursuing the inquiry 
still, and will not fail to inform you if any light 
should hereafter be cast on so " dark" a subject. 
— AngUilla. 

[Other communications, all tending to the 
same end, we " suppress," as they would occupy 
too much space. We feel bound, however, as 
we have already given admission to the remarks 
of"T. G.," to let that gentleman's "further" 
observations appear. They are thus stated in 
the Gardeners' Chronicle of May 17; and are too 
important to be abridged : — 

' Propagation of Eels. — Many thanks to " G. 
II." for his second letter on this subject. It 
appears to me that we think very much alike 
about eels. He says "that his pond is 50 miles 
from where the river Nene flows into the sea; 

therefore how is it that these little eels get no 
larger in their long and tedious journey, inter- 
rupted as it is by numerous and almost insur- 
mountable obstacles before they could reach the 
little ditch, three quarters of a mile long, which 
would conduct them to our pond ? and last of all, 
after this long and tedious journey, within 100 
yards of their destination, they would have to 
climb four waterfalls and a perpendicular sluice- 
board. It appears to me that they should have 
grown much larger than a common tobacco-pipe 
during that time ; but I will leave this point to 
' H. G.' to explain." This is so fairly put, that 
I will tell what I have seen, hoping that this 
will be a sufficient explanation. In June, 1850, 1 
happened to go down to the bank of the river 
Kibble, and there I saw a column of small eels 
steadily making their way up the stream. I 
should suppose there might be about 50 in every 
lineal yard (for they kept pretty close to the 
bank, apparently because they met with less 
resistance from the stream), and without pre- 
tending to accuracy, I supposed they travelled at 
the rate of a mile per hour. This was about 5 
o'clock in the afternoon, and I went to look at 
them again about 9 in the evening. They were 
still going in one unbroken column. How long 
they had been going when I first saw them, and 
how long they continued to go after my second 
visit, I don't know, but many thousands, perhaps 
millions, must have passed on that day. At this 
rate, they would have required little more than 
two days to reach " G. H.'s " pond, 50 miles 
from the sea; but he says they had to pass 
over three or four waterfalls, and a perpendicular 
sluice-board . If these waterfalls and the sluice- 
board were covered with moss, they would climb 
them as readily as a cat does a ladder. I have 
seen them in swarms at a perpendicular weir here, 
wiriding their way through the damp moss, with 
which the stones are covered ; but this was not 
all. Where there was no moss, the little things 
seemed to have the power of adhering to the per- 
pendicular face of the stones, like so many snails. 
I must not omit to remark that, although they 
seemed to choose the margin of the stream for 
the sake of easier travelling, yet they took care 
to keep in the stream, as I had a nice opportunity 
of remarking. At the point where I first observed 
them, the tail grit of a water-wheel had its junc- 
tion with the river, but being Sunday there was 
no current there. Not a single eel took its course 
up the tail grit, although the water was deeper 
there than where they went. The water being 
low and perfectly clear, I could trace their course, 
both above and below the place where I stood, 
without any difficulty. If we allow that they 
travelled a mile in the hour, and that the ob- 
struction of the waterfalls and the sluice-board 
required as long to get over as all the rest of 
the journey, this would enable them to reach 
" G. H.'s " pond in four days from the sea; and 
from what I have seen of their ability to sur- 
mount such obstructions, I am quite convinced 
that they would travel that distance in the time. 
But say they were a week; they would not grow 
much in that time, particularly if they had been 
travelling without food the whole of the time, 
and that they must have done so is proved to my 
mind by their keeping in column: for if they 

had dispersed to seek for food, by what con- 
trivance were they marshalled into line again to 
enable them to proceed? Now, the place where 
I saw them is 40 miles from the sea, although, 
perhaps, not that distance from salt water. 
" Tav ' says, that it is no proof that eels are 
bred in fresh water, because they may be found 
in ponds having no communication with a river; 
The proof required is ab ovo. If he waits for 
this proof, I fear he will have to wait some time ; 
for I fancy no one but Mr. Boccius ever saw 
the ova op eels, and he will not condescend 
to enlighten us on the subject; but at the same time 
I admit, that finding them there is no proof that 
they were bred there, inasmuch as I have myself 
stocked such ponds for my friends; and what I 
have done may be done by others. " Tav 
says further, " There is also room for inquiry 
into a rather curious subject — Do eels after hav- 
ing gone to the sea for spawning (?) ever 
return to fresh water? " In reply to this I can 
only say, that no trace of such a migration is ever 
seen here; and I think, if it existed at all, I 
should have observed it, for the following reasons : 
— The Kibble here supplies a large mill, the 
water-wheels of which are 150 horse power, there- 
fore when they are at work in the daytime the 
whole force of the river is frequently passing 
through the mill lead (grit), and the bed of the 
river between the tail grit and the weir (two- 
thirds of a mile) is suddenly left dry, except a 
few pools; if there were a shoal of eels between 
these two points, it would have been seen at one 
time or another, and this has never happened so 
far as I know; it may be said that they migrate 
singly; but they don't do so in their first migra- 
tion, and so far as I am aware, it is not the habit 
of any animal to do so. Herrings, pilchards, 
smelts, flounders, sturgeon, bisons, antelopes, 
woodcocks, swallows, fieldfares, locusts, and even 
butterflies, congregate together previous to migra- 
tion.— -T. G., Clitherbe: 

On the Artficial Incubation of Eggs Let me 

call your attention to the very interesting subject 
of hatching eggs by Cantelo's Incubator, or hot 
water. You are aware that the principle of ar- 
tificial hatching is not new, having been practised 
in the earliest ages ; but it has of late years been 
much improved on. My object now, is to point 
out the defects in Cantelo's Incubator, and to 
show how greater advantages might be derived. 
The drawbacks attached to the Incubator are 
first, the expense. The cost is at least sixpence 
per day. Secondly, some person must be con- 
stantly present to attend the fire. Thirdly, the 
costliness of the machines, the cheapest being £21. 
Fourthly, the difficulty of procuring charcoal in 
some country towns. These serious disadvan- 
tages have prevented many persons from giving 
the system a fair trial. Now, / have thought of 
a plan whereby many thousand head of poultry 
might be successfully reared at a very trifling 
cost. It is however fair to state, that the pro- 
cess can only be carried on where there is an 
engine at constant work; the enginemen could 
then attend to the apparatus, which will not re- 
quire more of them than ten minutes per day. 
A machine capable of holding 600 eggs can be 

constructed for less than £6; and an artificial 
mother to rear the chickens when hatched, will 
cost from £4 to £5 ; so that any party where a 
certain, steady, temperature can be obtained, 
may, for the trifling cost of say £12, have an ap- 
paratus capable of hatching and rearing 10,800 
chickens every year. The whole is so simple, 
that any carpenter, or in fact any handy person, 
can make it. I myself, although no carpenter, 
have constructed one which I intend to put to 
work in about a month from this time. Should 
any of your readers feel interested in my expe- 
riments, I will supply them with all the infor- 
mation I possess. — W. L. J. 

[We find the following, having reference to 
the same subject, in the Agricultural Gazette of 
Jan. 1 4. The one will be a useful adjunct to 
the other. We have printed the "improvement " 
on the original, first — ■ 

Artificial Hatching Apparatus. — Being in Lon- 
don at this time of year, and, like the rest of 
folks, fond of seeing the various amusements, &c, 
I paid my second visit to the hatching apparatus 
in Leicester Square. Belonging to the class of 
small farmers, and believing it is of no use cry- 
ing " help, help," as too many do, I prefer the 
maxim of " God helps them who help themselves," 
and am on the qui vive as to any benefit which 
may be derived from any improvement of our old 
methods. With this view I paid my second 
visit, and bought a pamphlet, with which I must 
say I am much interested ; as, if the calculations 
therein set out are only one-half true, I do not 
think we have reason to be afraid of injury by 
free trade. I take, for instance, the following 
estimate of cost and profits of a one-tray incu- 
bator, briefly thus : — 


Eggs ... 
Food ... 

£ s. d. 


7 10 


4 10 


RECEIPTS. £ S. d. 

For Fowl ... 135 

Value incubator 19 


Expenses 78 



That is, £7G or £78 left to pay rent, &c: and 
the estimate of profit on a five-tray incubator is 
stated at £389, &c, which I need not recapitulate, 
as I dare say you have the pamphlet, or at least 
have read it. Now, Mr. Editor, if, as I said before, 
this estimate be only double the amount which 
may reasonably be expected, how is it that it is 
not more generally practised ? There must, me- 
thinks, be some practical difficulty not mentioned 
in the said pamphlet. You would greatly oblige 
me, if you would, in your answers to corre- 
spondents, give me your opinion as to the practi- 
cability of the scheme, and the reason why you 
think it has not become more adopted by the 
public. A hint or two of this kind will prove 
most acceptable, as by them I may judge on the 
probability of success. Poultry (of all kinds') is 
certainly looking up, as you may now find hun- 
dreds kept where (when I was a boy) they were 
considered almost a pest : they cannot, therefore, 
now be thought" so unprofitable. '^ Still for all 
that, I should like to know the data against 
Cantelo's (the pros he states himself) hatching, 
which it appears must exist, or it would have 
been by this time of much more frequent use. 

There is no question that he can hatch them ; 
what I want to know is, can it be followed out at 
a profit? I do not require a more lengthy an- 
swer than convenient, though I don't care how 
explicit. The fact is, I have an inclination to 
purchase a four or five-tray one, and should like 
your unprejudiced practical opinion on its merits 
first. — John Murray, Bockle, near Dover. 

[By and by, we shall ourselves have something 
to say about this system of breeding. It is purely 
unnatural, and is very naturally attended with 
many disadvantages. However, we will take 
charge of any letters addressed to our correspond- 
ent, " W. L. J."] 

Reform in Bird-cages. — I have a cage in use, 
a description of which I think may interest 
some of your readers. It consists of a box, three 
feet long, eighteen inches wide, and six inches 
deep ; made of mahogany, and lined with zinc. 
Upon this is fixed a frame, glazed with squares 
of glass, 12 X 12 inches; and having a span roof 
(the height from ridge of roof to bottom of cage 
being two feet); the top is ornamented with 
curved work, &c, and stands on a table made on 
purpose. I may mention, that the above was 
used as a Eern or Ward's case; but as I had got 
two others of better construction, it struck me 
that it would, with a little alteration, make a 
capital cage. All I had to do was to provide 
ventilation, which I did in this way. The glazed 
frame and box being made to come separate, I 
raised the frame about one-fourth of an inch from 
the box, leaving a space all round for the admis- 
sion of air. On one side was a door, formed of one 
pane of glass, set in a frame on hinges. The 
glass I removed : substituting perforated zinc, of 
a pretty pattern. I also removed two panes from 
the roof, filling up with zinc; and after fixing 
perches, seed-hopper, and fountain, the case was 
transformed into a very elegant cage; and one 
from which it is impossible any dirt can escape. 
At the same time, it is light, airy, and comfort- 
able; and in fact forms the best and cleanliest 
cage I have ever seen. It contains at present 
two goldfinches, one siskin, one mule, and a 
canary ; but I have had double that number in it. 
The bottom of the cage I cover once a fortnight 
with coarse river sand, an inch deep ; and with a 
small tin dust-pan, made for the purpose, I take off 
a thin layer of this every morning, thus keeping it 
always clean. The glass requires cleaning once 
a week, when there is no bath ; oftener, when it 
is in use ; then the sand requires to be oftener re- 
newed. I am not aware whether you admit sketches 
in your Journal. I send you a rough one, how- 
ever, which will give you a better idea of its ap- 
pearance than my attempt at description. [We 
shall keep this, for a future opportunity]. And 
now let me draw the attention of your readers 
to the pretty cages that could be made, com- 
bining glass and zinc, say, for instance, for a 
canary : what could be better than a cage made in 
an octagonal form, the small sides of perforated 
zinc, and the other sides of plate glass? These 
to be made moveable, and inserted in grooves 
(for the purpose of facility in cleaning), the top 
being made of zinc or wire, — and taking care to 
make the bottom so deep (and to come off) as to 
prevent dirt escaping. Many other forms be- 



sides this could, of course, be readily used. 
Again, to those who are lovers both of plants 
and birds (and there are few who are not so), 
what pleasure would it not give (especially to 
dwellers in cities), were a Ward's case, filled 
with ferns, &c, and birds combined? This could 
easily be done, by having a case divided by 
glass partitions into three divisions; the two ends 
for plants, and air tight ; the centre for birds, — 
ventilation being provided for as before de- 
scribed. Or a case might be made, having a 
glass partition in the centre; one end, plants, 
the other birds. It strikes me this would be a 
pretty combination for the parlor window ; and I 
shall be glad to hear if any of your readers make 
use of the suggestion, or have already had such 
a thing in use. — J. C, Glasgow. 

Robin's Soirees Parisiennes. 

We have had so many wizards, magi- 
cians, and conjurors of late years, that we 
begin to get " quite knowing 1 ' in matters 
of mystery. Some have come from the 
north, others from the east and west, and 
others from the south ; all, however, have 
produced something marvellous. 

If, however, we speak fairly, Ave feel 
bound to decide in favor of M. Robin, as a 
" prestigidator." He does whatever he at- 
tempts so well, so coolly, so naturally, that 
you feel he could, if asked to do so, pro- 
duce anything that might be wanted. His 
" address," too, is pleasing. 

We saw him, a few evenings since, borroAv 
a gentleman's hat. Placing it under his 
arm, and standing on a platform in the cen- 
tre of the pit, he dreAv from it at his leisure 
for some quarter of an hour, as many articles 
as covered a large table. So many indeed, 
that we imagine a dozen " common" hats 
could not have contained them. We counted 
some forty or fifty tin mugs, five inches 
deep ; at least as many children's balls : 
whilst toys, bon-bons, fans, and other articles, 
were discharged from the hat almost Avith- 
out end. The rapidity of their appearance 
Avas irresistibly droll, and Ave shall not, most 
assuredly, descend to inquire 'whence they 
came ! 

As it Avould be unfair to tell all Ave saAv, 
thereby anticipating Avhat e\ T erybody else 
ought to see, Ave Avill only remark, that the 
performances altogether w r ere truly mar- 
vellous. The senses Avere fairly taken cap- 
tive. You doubted, and yet Avere u con- 
vinced." You attempted to " explain," and 
fell into a labyrinth of error. We never 
enjoyed a more pleasant evening. 

M. Robin was assisted materially by 
Madame Robin, Avhose " long sight" could 
only be compared to a marine telescope. 
We began to think she could read our 

thoughts, and therefore tried to think of 
nothing but what was " proper." (Thoughts 
will Avander !) 

We must, just direct attention to the pro- 
duction of three bushels of flock feathers out 
of a small-sized hat ; the marvellous disap- 
pearance of Madame Robin through the 
centre of a table (an admirably- contrived 
" stage effect") ; and the performances of the 
tAvo inimitable mechanical figures on the 
rope. These three items in the entertain- 
ment Avere Avorth all the entrance money. 
Indeed, the evening's entertainment, as fur- 
nished by M. Robin, cannot be too highly 
lauded. All the Avorld should pay him a 
visit. He tells you he deceives you, and yet 
you cannot believe him ! We must see him 
again, and take a host of children Avith us — 
Ave dearly Ioa^c to be so surrounded. 


This is Leap Year ; February has twenty- 
nine days — giving us an " odd day " in — and 
the year is a Avhole day longer than it has 
been for three years past, or will be for 
three years to come. This day, Avhich is 
one in three hundred and sixty-five, bring- 
ing that number up to three hundred and 
sixty six, is more than a quarter per cent, 
gained upon the time, and, consequently, 
upon the use and enjoyment of the year. It 
becomes not an uninteresting question — 
What ought we to do with this " odd day ? " 

Before, hoAvever, Ave attend to this ques- 
tion, it may not be amiss to inquire into the 
reason Avhy the present year, 1852, is more 
beneficial to us by a Avhole day than either 
of the three preceding or the three succeed- 
ing years. The day, Avhich means the time 
that the earth takes to turn round once on 
its axis, so as to present any one point of 
its surface successively in every direction to 
the circumference of a circle in absolute 
space, is what Ave may call a constant quantity ; 
that is, Ave have no reason to believe that it 
is shorter at any one period of time than at 
another. It depends upon the earth alone, 
and does not appear to be influenced by the 
sun, the moon, or any other of the celestial 
bodies. The axis, or imaginary line around 
Avhich the earth turns, is perfectly constant 
to its position in the earth amid all the wa- 
ned motions of that body, and all the Ally- 
ing influences Avhich the sun, the moon, and 
the planets have upon it. The earth, as a 
mere piece of matter, has no more pOAver of 
increasing or diminishing its quantity, or of 
A r arying its motions, than it has, or could 
have had, of creating itself; and, therefore, 
this rotation upon its axis, Avhich measures 
the length of the day, may be considered as 
being absolutely the same at every period 
of the Avorld's history, just as the latitudes 

of places have remained the same from the 
earliest time of observation. Indeed, we can 
see no cause why there should, or even 
could, be any variation in this particular 
motion of the earth. The influences of the 
other celestial bodies, in as far as they tell 
upon the earth at all, tell upon the whole of 
it as one entire mass, of which the whole of 
the parts are alike affected, in the ratios of 
the squares of their distances from the dis- 
turbing sun, moon, or planet ; and, therefore, 
the distant bodies in the heavens no more 
disturb the rotation of the earth on its axis, 
than they disturb the going of a watch, the 
progress of a coach or ship, or the evolutions 
of a person in a dance. 

We are, therefore, to consider this natural 
day, or twenty-four hours, as the original 
and invariable standard of time. It is the 
only standard which we know to be quite 
invariable, and even it is not of uniform 
length at all seasons of the year, as told by 
the sun or any other of the celestial bodies. 
There are four times in the year when the 
hour by the sun and by a perfectly true 
clock momentarily correspond ; and these 
are the two equinoxes in spring and autumn, 
and the two solstices in summer and winter. 
At all other times of the year, the clock and 
the sun vary in consequence of the earth's 
motion in declination, so that in the first and 
third quarters the clock is behind the sun- 
dial, and in the second and fourth it is before. 
The difference of these is a matter of easy 
calculation to any one acquainted with as- 
tronomy. It is called the equation of time. 

From the motion of the earth round the 
sun in the course of the year, the sun appears 
to have a motion eastward among the stars, 
so as to get completely round the heavens, 
as from star to star, in the course of the *y ear. 
This makes the year, counted by the stars, 
contain a day more than the year counted 
by the sun ; the first being called the sidereal 
year, and the second the tropical. It is by 
the tropical year that we count time ; and at 
present the tropical year contains three hun- 
dred and sixty-rive days, five hours, forty- 
eight minutes, and forty -nine seconds. This 
odd time is less than a quarter of a day, by 
eleven minutes and eleven seconds ; and thus 
it will not count exactly in days or any part 
of a day. It is, however, very nearly a 
quarter of a day; and, thus, in our estimate 
of the year, so as to get it expressed in an 
exact number of days, we take no notice of 
this fraction for three years, but reckon the 
year for these as consisting exactly of three 
hundred and sixty-five days ; and in order to 
make the seasons in our calculation keep to 
the season in the estimate, we allow the 
fraction to accumulate, and reckon every 
fourth year a day more, or three hundred 
and sixty-six days, by which means we get 

an odd day, or a twenty-ninth day of Feb- 
ruary every fourth year ; nor are we at any 
loss to find out the year in which this is the 
case, for whenever the date, or number of 
the year, can be divided by four without any 
remainder, it will be leap year ; thus, 1848 
was a leap year, 1852 is a leap year, 1856 
will be a leap year, and so on. 

This allowance is too much, however, and 
the difference amounts to rather less than a 
day in a hundred years, or very nearly to 
seven days in nine hundred years. The 
calendar, reckoning three hundred and sixty- 
five days every year, and three hundred and 
sixty-six every fourth year, was established 
by Julius Csesar ; but as it made the year 
by account the odd minutes and seconds 
longer than the true year, the seasons got 
in advance of their estimated times accord- 
ing to the calendar. This was rectified in 
1582 by Pope Gregory XIII., who directed 
that the fifteenth day of October that year 
should immediately follow the fourth day, 
thus leaving out eleven days. It was not 
till 1752 that the alteration was established 
by authority in England ; and this was called 
the alteration from "old style" to "new 
style," the fourteenth of September coming 
immediately after the second in that year, 
instead of the third. Another important 
arrangement was made at the same time. 
Before then, it had been customary to reckon 
the twenty-fifth day of March as the first day 
of the year ; but at that time it was changed 
to the first of January. In consequence of 
this change of the beginning of the year, we 
sometimes meet with dates which are marked 
double, the period between January and 
March having the number of both years at- 
tached to it, as belonging to the old year by 
the one estimate, and the new year by the 
other. The Russians continue to count 
time by the old style ; and as there has been 
another day allowed for since our alteration, 
the difference between Russia and the rest 
of Europe is now twelve days ; so that an 
English letter might arrive in Russia before 
the day on which it appeared to be written ; 
and a letter brought from Russia to this 
country would be twelve days older than 
the time of bringing. 

The day in four years, or the quarter of a 
day every year, is more than eleven minutes 
too much ; and, if we were not to make al- 
lowance for this, the error which was cor- 
rected by J?ope Gregory would accumulate 
and have to be corrected again. We con- 
trive, however, to get nearly rid of it by 
leaving out the odd clay in those centuries 
the dates of which are divisible by four 
hundred, and which would contain three 
hundred and sixty-six days by the common 
estimate. This is so near the truth, that it 
does not amount to an entire day in three 



thousand years. If the years divisible by 
four thousand were also reckoned at three 
hundred and sixty-five days each, the error 
would not be a day in a hundred thousand 

It is thus that we come by our odd day 
this year ; and now let us consider what we 
should or can make of it. Now tins ( ' odd 
day," this twenty-ninth of February, which 
we shall not have again until we are four 
years older, is what we may call " a day 
found ; " and it so happens that very much 
of the good or bad sense of mankind is deter- 
mined by the use which they make of what 
is found in this way, or otherwise comes in 
addition to what they calculated or expected. 
"Lightly come, lightly gone," is the fool's 
maxim in those cases, and from their acting 
on this maxim good luck is the ruin of thou- 
sands. We often find that a prize in the 
lottery, an unexpected legacy, or anything 
else which comes without having been looked 
for, turns a frugal man into a profligate idler; 
and as time is really our most valuable pos- 
session, we should be especially careful that 
this additional day shall not be perverted 
into a waste of time. Still it is a particular 
day, and we have a right to make a peculiar 
use of it. Now we are not aware that any 
better use can be made of it than the follow- 
ing : — Think over the years that have elapsed 
since last odd day, consider what failure or 
success has been in them, and what have 
been the causes of the one or the other. 
Then, when this has been done calmly and 
seriously, with that thorough and searching 
scrutiny which every one may and should 
give to his own conduct, without any refer- 
ence to the rest of mankind, consider by 
what means failure is to be avoided, and 
success to be insured, during the four years 
which must elapse before we have another 
odd day; 

If in tfois maimer the odd day could be 
made a general settling day with every one 
in respect of his own conduct and conscience, 
it might be made the most valuable day in 
all the four years, of which it is the summing 
up ; and if the settlement is made with any- 
thing like wisdom, it is astonishing how 
much may be learned with no apparent 
labor and trouble ; and thus the " odd day " 
may be most profitably employed in setting 
the whole course of our lives " even." 

A Speculation — connected with Natural 
History. — The remains of some flying reptiles, 
one of them supposed to have measured more 
than sixteen feet from tip to tip of its out- 
stretched wings, have been found in the white 
chalk of Kent. — Were these, suggests one's ima- 
gination, blown out to sea and drowned, so that 
their bones sank to the bottom and were pre- 
served in the white mud ? If not, whence came 
they ? 


An arrant piece of mischief was that Kitty 
Coleman, with her winsome ways and wicked 
little heart ! Those large bewildering eyes ! 
how they poured out their strange eloquence, 
looking as innocent all the while as though 
they had peered from their amber -fringed 
curtains quite by mistake, or only to join in 
a quadrille with the sunlight! And then 
those warm, ripe lips, the veritable 
" Rosy bed 
That a bee would choose to dream in :" 
that is, a well-bred bee, which cared to 
pillow his head on pearls white as snow on 
the heaven-side of our earthly atmosphere, 
and sip the honey of Hybla from the balmy 
air fanning his slumbers. 

And so wild — unmanageable was she ! Oh ! 
it was shocking to proper people ! Why, she 
actually laughed aloud — Kitty Coleman did ! 
I say Kitty, because in her hours of frolick- 
ing, she was very like a juvenile puss, par- 
ticularly given to fun-loving ; and, moreover, 
because everybody called her Kitty, but aunt 
Martha. She was a well-bred woman, who 
disapproved of loud laughing, romping, and 
nicknaming, as she did of other crimes ; so 
she always said Miss Catherine. She thought, 
too, that Miss Catherine's hair — those long, 
golden locks, like rays of floating sunshine 
wandering about her shoulders — should be 
gathered up into a comb ; and once the little 
lady was so obliging as to make trial of the 
scheme ; but, at the first bound she made 
after Rover, the burnished cloud broke from 
its ignoble bondage, and the little silver 
comb nestled down in the long grass for 

Kitty was a sad romp. It is a hard thing 
to say of one we all loved so well, but aunt 
Martha said it, and shook her head, and 
sighed the while ; and the squire, aunt 
Martha's brother, said it, and spread open 
his arms for his pet to spring into ; and 
careful old ladies said it, and said, too, what 
a pity it is that young ladies now-a -days 
would have no more regard for propriety ! 
and even Enoch Short, the great phrenologist, 
buried his bony fingers in those dainty locks, 
that none but a phrenologist had a right to 
touch, and waiting only for the long, silvery 
laugh that interrupted his scientific researches , 
to subside, declared that her organ of mirth- 
fulness was very strikingly developed. It 
was then a matter past controversy ; and, of 
course, Kitty was expected to do what 
nobody else could do, and say what nobody 
else had a right to say ; and the sin of all 
was chargeable to a strange idiosyncrasy, a 
peculiar conformation of the mind, or rather 
brain, over which she had no control ; and 
so Kitty was forgiven, forgiven by all but — 
we had a story to tell. 

I have heard that Cupid is blind, but of 
that I believe not a word, Indeed, I have 
a confirmation strong, that the malicious 
little knave has a sort of clairvoyance, and can 
see a heart where few would expect one to 
exist ; for $id he not perch himself, now in 
the eye and now on the lip of Kitty Coleman, 
and, with a marvellously steady aim (imi- 
tating a personage a trifle more dreaded), 
" Cut down all, 
Both great and small?" 

Blind ! no, no ! If the laughing rogue did 
fail in a single instance, it was not that he 
aimed falsely, or had emptied his quiver 
before. Harry Raymond must have had a 
tough heart, and so the arrow rebounded. 
Oh! a .very stupid fellow was that Harry 
Raymond ! and Kitty hesitated not to say 
it ; for after Avalking and riding with her all 
through the leafy month of June, what right 
had he to grow dignified all of a sudden, and 
look upon her, when he did it at all, as 
though she had been a naughty child that 
deserved tying up ? To be sure, Harry 
Raymond was a scholar and in love, as 
everybody said, with his books ; but pray 
what book is there of them all that could 
begin to compare with Kitty Coleman. 

There used to be delightful little gather- 
ings in our village, and Kitty must of course 
be there ; and Harry, stupid as he was, always 
went too. People were of course glad to see 
him, for the honor was something, if the com- 
pany had otherwise been ever so undesirable. 
But Kitty hesitated not to show her dislike. 
She declared he did not know how to be civil ; 
and then she sighed (doubtless at the boor- 
ishness of scholars in general, and this one in 
particular) ; and then she laughed so long 
and musically, that the curate, the lawyer, 
the schoolmaster, and the clerk, all joined in 
the chorus ; though for the life of them, they 
could not have told what the lady laughed 
at. Harry Raymond only looked towards 
the group, muttered something in a very ill- 
natured tone about butterflies, and then 
turned his back upon them, and gazed out 
of the window, though it was very certain he 
could see nothing in the pitchy darkness. 
It was very strange that Kitty Coleman 
should have disregarded entirely the opinion 
of such a distinguished gentleman as Harry 
Raymond ; for he had travelled, and he 
sported an elegant wardrobe, and owned a 
gay equipage, a fine house and grounds, " and 
everything that was handsome." But she 
only laughed the louder when she saw he 
was displeased. Indeed, his serious face 
seemed to infuse the concentrated, double- 
distilled spirit of mirthfulness into her ; and 
a more frolicksome creature never existed 
than Kitty was, until he was gone. Then, 
all of a sudden, she grew fatigued, and must 
go home immediately. 

It was as much on Harry Raymond's 
account as her own that aunt Martha was 
distressed at the hoydenish manners of her 
romping niece, and found it her duty to ex- 
postulate every day. But Kitty insisted that 
her manners were not hoydenish, and if her 
heart overflowed it was not her fault. She 
could not shut up all her glad feelings within 
her ; they would leap back at the call of their 
kindred gushing from other bosoms, and to 
all the beautiful things of creation as joyous 
in their mute eloquence as she was. Besides, 
the wicked little Kitty Coleman was very 
angry that her aunt Martha should attempt 
to govern her conduct by the likings of Harry 
Raymond ; and to show that she did not care 
an apple-blossom for him, nor his opinions 
either, she was more unreasonably gay in his 
presence than anywhere else. But, whatever 
Harry Raymond might think, he did not 
slander the little lady. Indeed he never was 
heard to speak of her but once, and then he 
said she had no soul. A pretty judge of souls 
he, to be sure ! a man that never laughed ! 
How can people who go through the world, 
cold and still like the clods they tread upon, 
pretend to know anything about soul. 

But, notwithstanding the enmity of the 
young people, Harry Raymond used to go to 
Squire Coleman's, and talk all the evening 
with the squire and aunt Martha, while his 
big black eye turned slowly in the direction 
Kitty moved, like the bewitching sylphide 
that she was ; but Kitty did not look at him, 
not she ! What right had a stranger, and 
her father's guest too, to act out his reproof 
in such a manner ? 

When Harry went away, he would bow 
easily and gracefully to the old people, but 
to the young lady he found it difficult to 
bend. Conduct like this provoked Kitty 
Coleman beyond endurance ; and., one even- 
ing, after the squire and spinster had left her 
alone, she sat down, and < in^very M&]pite, 
sobbed away as though her little heart would 
break. Now it happened that the squire had 
lent his visitor a book that evening, which, 
strange enough for such a scholar, he had for- 
gotten to take with him ; but luckily Harry 
remembered it before it was too late, and 
turned upon his heel. The door was open, 
and so he stepped at once into the parlor. 
Poor Kitty sprang to her feet at the intru- 
sion, and crushed with her fingers two tears 
that were just ready to launch themselves 
on the roundest and rosiest cheeks in the 
world ; but she might have done better than 
blind herself ; for, by some means, her feet 
came in unintentional contact with aunt 
Martha's faateuil, and her forehead, in con- 
sequence, found it resting very unceremo- 
niously on the neck of Rover. 

It is very awkward to be surprised in the 
luxurious abandon of tears at any time ; and 



it is a -trifle more awkward still, to stumble 
when you wisli to be particularly dignified, 
and then be raised by the last person in the 
world from whom you would receive a favor. 
Kitty felt the awkwardness of her position 
too much to speak, and of course. Harry 
could not release her until he knew whether 
she was hurt. It was certain she was not 
faint, for the crimson blood died even the 
tips of her fingers, and Harry's face imme- 
diately took the same hue, probably from 
sympathy. Kitty looked down until a 
golden arc of fringe rested lovingly on its 
glowing neighbor ; and Harry, too, looked 
down on Kitty Coleman's face. Then a low, 
soft whisper — low and soft as the breathing 
of an infant ; and (poor Kitty must have been 
hurt and needed support) an arm stole softly 
around her waist, and dark locks mingled 
with her sunny ones, and Kitty Coleman 
hid her face — not in her hands. 

Harry forgot his book again that night, 
and never thought of it till the squire put it 
into his hand the next morning. Harry 
visited the squire very early the next morn- 
ing. Very likely he came on business, for 
they had a private interview ; and the good 
old gentleman slapped him on the shoulder, 
and said, " with all my heart ;" and aunt 
Martha looked as glad as propriety would let 
her. As for Kitty Coleman, she did not show 
her face — not she ; for she knew they were 
talking about her — such a meddler was Harry 
Raymond ! But, as the arrant mischief- 
maker bounded from the door, there was 
great rustling among the rose-bushes, inso- 
much that a shower of bright blossoms de- 
scended from them and reddened the dewy 
turf; and Harry turned a face brimming 
over with joyfuln ess to the fragrant thicket, 
and went to search out the cause of the dis- 

Now it happened that Kitty Coleman had 
hidden in this very thicket, and she was, of 
course, found out; and I do not think poor 
Kitty ever quite recovered from the effects 
of her fall, for the arm. of Harry Raymond 
seemed very necessary to her for ever after. 

A Song for February. 
By H. G. Adams. 

Across the wold, 

The wind blows cold; 
The traveller wraps his cloak around ; 

Far o'er the hill, 

It whistles shrill, 
And dies away with a mournful sound ; 

But to rise again, 

With a shriller strain, 
And a stress that makes him forward bend. 

While heap on heap 

The dead leaves sweep, 
Where'er the miry ways extend. 

The early blooms, 

That in their tombs 
Have lain the dreary winter long; 

And just peeped out, 

To look about, 
Lured by the throstle's cheerful song; 

Shrink back aghast, 

As the savage blast 
Ruffles and tears their tender leaves ; 

And a sob and sigh 

There passeth by, 
As of one that o'er oppression grieves! 

A sweep ! a whirl ! 

A sudden swirl, 
Like a headlong torrent bursting forth; 

Hail, rain, and sleet, 

Together meet, 
In blinding mist from the frozen north ; 

While each tall tree 

Swings heavily 
Its naked branches to and fro ; 

And from its crown, 

Sends fragments down, 
Where bide the heaps of last year's snow. 

But noAv again, 

Across the plain, 
Black shadows, chased by sunbeams, fly; 

And 'twixt the crowds 

Of hurrying clouds, 
Are glimpses of the clear blue sky ; 

Yet still the wind 

Is keen, unkind, 
To shivering birds that sit aloof, 

"With mournful " cheep," 

Or huddled keep, 
Beneath the eaves of friendly roof. 

On, traveller, on! 

The storm anon 
Once more will sweep across thy way; 

And o'er thy head, 

The sky will spread 
A gloomy pall of sombre grey ; 

Yet bravely thou 

May' st lift thy brow, 
Whatever perils thee beset; 

Assured that He 

Aye looks on thee, 
At whose behest the clouds are met. 

On, traveller, on! 

The goal is won 
By those who struggle, and who strive; 

And 'mid the strife, 

And storms of life, 
Still keep the camp of faith alive : 

We journey oft, 

With clouds aloft, 
And miry ways beneath our feet ; 

But none the less 

Should onward press, 
In hopes our high reward to meet. 

London:— Published by George Berger, 19, Holywell 
Street, Strand (to whom alt. Letters and Communica- 
tions. Sealed and Addressed to" the Editor," and Books 
for Review, are to be forwarded) ; and Procurable, 
by order, of every Bookseller and Newsvendor in the 

London : Myers & Co., Printers, 22, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 


Conducted by WILLIAM KIDD, of Hammersmith,— 

Author of the Familiar and Popular Essays on "Natural History;" "British Song 

Birds;" "Birds of Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" 

" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c, 

"the OBJECT of our work is to make men WISER, WITHOUT obliging them to turn over folios and 


No. 7.— 1852. 


Price l%d. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price Id. 


" Good morrow ! 'tis St. Valentine's Day, 
All in the morning hetime ; 
And I a maid at your window, 
To be your Valentine." 

So sings the lovely Ophelia. How many 
sweet, smiling, rosy countenances will echo 
her song to-day ! 

There is something about this Saint's day 
that liketh us well. We have been young — 
are young even now — and feel more delight 
than ever in watching the postman in his 
harmless but important progress towards 
" certain doors," where his presence to-day 
is eagerly looked for. This is a day that 
will be "big"— if not Avith the " fate of Troy," 
yet with the fate of a great many lads and 
lasses whose minds now " hang on doubt." 

As we have ourselves passed the Rubicon, 
and got safely over the perils of the day, 
what we now write is after the fashion of 
Royalty, — " cum privilegM." Oh ! could we 
but read each beating heart, closely nestling, 
'twixt doubt and fear, behind many a window- 
curtain on this " auspicious morn," as the 
long-expected postman agitates the knocker 
of the street-door ! We say — " Could we but 
read it ! " But we can't. So we will 
" imagine " it, faintly. 

It were useless to attempt to disguise the 
fact,that many interchanges of private thought 
do pass on this day, which would not have 
"passed" had it been any other day in the year. 
A kind of" poetical license," it would seem, is 
tacitly granted by the good Saint on this par- 
ticular occasion, from sheer pity ; and if young 
folks are " backward in coming forward " 
with their " little story," the fault is theirs — 
not his ! The day once gone, has fled for 
twelve long tedious months ; and such 
" delays " give but too ample proof of their 
being " dangerous." 

We say not this, to prompt anybody 
"what to do," or "how to do it." No; 
we speak of the Day as it is, and connect it 
with the passing time. 

By the way, we see nothing to forbid our 
recording a "little fact" connected with 
" February 14, 1852," — the more especially 
as this is " Leap Year." It is simply this : 
We have been applied to by a certain amiable 
swain — doubtful, modestly-doubtful, of his 
own poetic powers, to improvise for him 
something that will cause the heart of his 
Dulcinea to " dissolve like a sunbeam." 
This \s just in our line, — we love to " do the 
pastoral ; " and we have " done " it ! A shaft 
has sped from our bow, that will enter the 
adyta and penetralia of that fair maiden's 
heart. W r e only hope that our ardent swain 
may himself get the credit of having penned 
the " missive." If he does — and our hopes 
of it are firm (we know his points), his " fate 
is sealed ! " 

We confess to being nervous to-day — 
nervous from the thought of the postman's 
" rap V at the door of the house in question. 
What would we give to be a little bird — 
perched upon the shoulder of the fair arm, 
whose possessor breaks the " killing" motto 


But we will now " dot down " a few par- 
ticulars of this "righte merrie'day " of love, 
mirth, and jollity, in which, from early asso- 
ciations, we still take so lively an interest ; 
and which We, as well as the Birds, consider 
the lawful "beginning of the end." May the 
end, in every case, prove as happy as the 
beginning ! — H— e — m ! ! ! 

The gallant St. Valentine was " so cele- 
brated for his love of charity," that the 
custom of choosing " special loving friends " 
is thence supposed to have originated. We 
have not been able to discover whether the 
said " Charity" was, or was not, the Christian 
name of a lady, who lived contemporary 
with the Saint : the virtue to which that 
sobriquet has been given, strikes us as being 
too cold to excite a flame in a sinner, let alone 
a saint. 

Some naturalists are inclined to think it 
is derived from the circumstance of birds 
choosing each a mate on this day ; while 

Vol. I.— New Series. 

antiquarians declare it to be a corruption of 
the Roman Lupercalia, which took place on 
the 14th of February, in honor o£Pan, when, 
amidst a variety of ceremonies, it was the 
custom to put the names of young women 
into a box, from which, as chance directed, 
they were drawn by the men. Pepys gives 
the following account of the celebration of 
the day in his time :" This morning came 
up to my wife's bedside, I being up dressing 
myself, little Will Mercer to be her Valen- 
tine ; and brought her name writ upon blue 
paper, in gold letters, done by himself, very 
pretty, and we were both well pleased with 
it. But T am also this year my wife's Valen- 
tine, and it will cost me £5 ; but that I must 
have laid out, if ive had not been Valentines." 
Again he says, "I find that Mr. Pierce's 
little girl is my Valentine, she having drawn 
me ; which I was not sorry for, it easing me 
of something less than I must have given to 
others. But here I do first observe the fashion 
of drawing of mottoes as well as names ; so 
that Pierre, who drew my wife, did draw also 
a motto, and this girl drew another for me. 
What mine was, I have forgot ; but my wife's 
was, ' Most courteous, most fair ; ' which, as 
it may be used, or an anagram made upon 
each name, might be very pretty. One 
wonder I observed to-day, that there was no 
musique in the morning to call up our new 
married people; which is very mean, me- 

We learn, from Timers Telescope, that 
the sweet " St. Valentine " is, even in the 
present day, remembered with due honors 
throughout England, Scotland, and Ireland ; 
but perhaps the most agreeable method of 
keeping this day of days, is that to which 
the young people of Norwich are accustomed. 
The Valentines are prepared some days pre- 
vious, and sent out on the evening of the 
13th, not by post ; for these are good sub- 
stantial gifts, to be laid at the house-doors 
of the happy receivers, who often lose many 
a rare present, from numerous wicked 
urchins being on the watch to seize and 
snatch them away with a loop-string, as 
soon as fairly out of the servant's hands. 

Cakes, oranges, packets of sweetmeats 
(made purposely for the day), work-boxes 
and bags, silver knives and pencils, music- 
books, drawing materials, colors, puzzles, 
&c, delight those fortunate children who 
have friends rich enough to bestow them. 
But most of the inhabitants of Norwich 
think Valentines an extremely costly custom, 
and money very ill spent, so it is most pro- 
bable that, in a few years, these presents will 
be discontinued. 

Children's balls are also held on this eve. 

" At in Scotland, the nobility and 

gentry of the town and neighborhood, wish- 
ing a select ball, have instituted a Valentine's 
j Club, which, from the rules and the different 

orders of the members of it, is apparently a 
jocose model of the society of the Knights 
Templars. To the sublime ' Order of the 
Pincushion,' belongs a Grand Master and a 
Grand Mistress ; different ranks of females, 
who are all ladies ; and different titles and 
orders of gentlemen, who are all knights. 
The society, which is wholly of a private 
nature, meet for a ball twice in the year, 
arid once for the celebration of this as- 

On this day, the London ladies gather 
in a very delightful literary harvest. They 
awake earlier than they are known to do 
through the remainder of the year ; while 
their dear faces, having worn all the night the 
same sweet smiles they intend to wear all the 
day, never appear in more lively or pleasing 

It is our custom, during this anniversary, 
to look in a footman's face, on his opening 
the door tous ; our knowledge of physiog- 
nomy enabling us, at the first glance, to de- 
cide whether it be prudent to advance or to 
recede. If there appear a faint and im- 
promptu kind of smile on his face, we ad- 
vance ; our reading telling us, that he has had 
to use his leg oftener than he considers his 
salary will cover. If, on the contrary, a 
placid and sleep-cemented satisfaction pre- 
vail in it, we quickly rid ourselves of a card, 
evaporate, or wander; it is observable to us 
that he has been ordered to keep to his chair 
for the day, and it is not lost upon us that 
we have been the first to break his slumbers 
since that order was given. 

At a certain house, of which we have the 
entree, and from which the prophetic " not 
at home" is levelled not at us, the poor 
fellow who officiates, looks, about one o'clock, 
so jaded and physically prostrate, that we 
invariably prop him with a shilling, as much 
to keep him civil as to secure his services 
in presenting our own Valentine some minutes 
after he has ushered us into the presence. 
This he manages in a manner every way sa- 
tisfactory to us. First, he thunders at the 
door ; then, we hear him ventriloquising, 
and, presently after, he appears with the 
freight, which he presents with a melan- 
choly and mysterious air, insinuative of " Ah, 
ladies ! these billey-doos will do for me." 

On the 8th Febuary, 1789, a city wag laid 
the following wager : " Next St Valentine's 
Day, for the space of ten miles in and around 
London, all females (except those of whom 
marriage has deprived society) shall each 
receive at least one Valentine." He imme- 
diately advertised his capacity and readiness 
to provide the public with " amatory missiles 
[as he called them] in the energetic, mild, 
melancholy, tender, touching, quaint, brisk, 
smart, witty, and audacious styles." In a 
day or two, there were as many applications 
made to him as he and three dozen amanu- 



enses could satisfy — a strong proof that the 
admiration of the fairer half of creation pre- 
vailed as generally then as it does now. The 
fellow won his wager, of course ! 

We subjoin three of the Valentines fur- 
nished by him ; the first to a fox-hunter, who 
could tell you that his name was Ned Follow- 
fox, but no further ; any caligraphical an- 
nouncement of the same 'twas his fancy to 
crush into the familiar mark X ; which, in 
conformity with his dying wishes, remains 
upon his tomb to this day. 

The other was supplied to a servant of 
Majesty, then recognised as a vagabond by 
the representatives of the people; and the 
third to a light that dawned in the depths of 
the county Connaught, and, it seems, piqued 
himself on the possession of a sweet voice ; 
for we learn that he first sang, and then had 
the commodity conveyed to his charmer. 
We place them in mathematical rotation : — 

No. 1. 

Dear Ma'am ! — This comes, or rather is 
carried by my groom " Cock Robin," an in- 
valuable fellow and always at your la' ship's 
service — from a heart which turns as nat'- 
rally to you as a horse to his manger. If it 
finds you " in a moment of sweet and swiftly- 
excited sympathy," I shall consider myself, 
saving your la'ship's presence, as a devilish 
fortunate fellow, and promise you I shall 
sing"out, " To her, boy, to her ! hark for'ard, 
Tantivy !" If, unluckily, it fall directly the 
reverse, I shall, very nat'rally, come to a 
contrary conclusion, and cry back, like a pig 
from a lime-kiln. But " my hopes of the 
former overruling my fears of the latter," 
I am, Ma'am ! 
(Take me whensoever, or 

whichsoever way you will) 

Your faithful Valentine, 
X * 

No. 2. 

Superabundant Selina ! ! ! — I am like a 
ship at sea, " her rigging rent and terribly 
diving down the depths," I sigh for thee and 
forget myself ! There lies my razor — I dare 
not use it ! Sanguine, Selina, the conse- 
quences might be ! — " this feeble hand so 
feebly writing were all too weak to curb its 
thirst for blood* blood, my girl, ha ! ha I" 
Yet in death I'd be thine — my last desire 
would be " to ebb out life on thy dear 
bosom," with " my gashed and gory throat 
pouring out its purple pool — hist !" 

But I willingly turn from such an efferves- 
cence, and lead my '^truant terrible thoughts 
to thee." Oh, how 1 long for thee !— the 
foodless child is less uneasy for its mother 
than I, my love, for thee ! 

I have no more to add, " k words are weak f 
I quit them for poetry — 

Selina, you're 

My love, I'm sure. 
And when that you I do resign, 

May ev'ry one 

That knows how far we've gone, 
Declare I'm not your faithful Valentine ! 

Theodore Who? 

No. 3. 
The morning's a-coming, 

Sweet Miss Donohoo', 
And, under your windy, 

I'm straining for you ; 
So hurry and hark 

To my beautiful lay, 
Or the cowld will so nip me, 

I must go away. 

'Tis said by the poet — ] 

A son of a fool ! 
That " true love can niver 

Grow stale or grow cool;" 
But, if he'd a-been a- waiting, 

Like me, all night long, 
I'm thinking he'd alter 

That bit of his song. 

Sweet Norah ! dear Norah ! 

Ah Norah ! I cry — 
Oh Norah ! now Norah, 

Arrah, why don't you reply? 
Och ! the marciless cratur 

Don't hear what I say, 
So now, by the powers ! 

I'll jist go away. 

We think the poor shivering wretch did 
" jist " right ! 

v Let us, before quitting a topic on which 
we shall be prevented touching again, 
answer in this place a Query put to us as 
London Journalists, by a Correspondent. 
He asks us — " What is a Wife's proper posi- 
tion in her Husband's house ?" and he feels 
sore that he should be altogether " debarred 
from other female society, because he is 


" Tut ! tut !" We smell jealousy here, — 
an ugly, hideous word, which we are laboring 
hard to expunge from our Modern Dic- 
tionaries. We have already got rid of the 
word " Impossibility." We acknowledge 
our projected task will be Herculean; for 
the enemy to be destroyed, like the Hydra of 
Diodorus, has so many heads ! However, 
our pen shall never slumber. But to the 

Let our Correspondent " E. W.," and every 
other benedict, regard his cava sposa as the 
Morning, the Day,* and the Evening 
Star — the whole three united. 'Tis her 
honorable due, and let it be affectionately 
rendered. St. Valentine recognises no 
neglect in this matter. So, young people, 


* The Meridian Sun. 



As for female society, generally, their com- 
pany is as indispensable as it is delightful. 
Whilst in their company, we breathe an at- 
mosphere pure and wholesome. 'Tis a wise 
provision of Nature that it should be so. 
What would our " pic-nics," our rambles, 
our walks, our gambols, our little harmless 
games be — if they were prohibited to share 
in them ? Our Correspondent is " pecked," 
surely ? Fie ! Fie ! ! 

Why, these " Minor Constellations" with 
their twinkling orbs of light, only cause the 
radiance of the Wife's smiles to dazzle the 
more. We disguise not the fact — why 
should we? — that we are 
" Eve's lovely daughters." 
tural and highly proper. 
aux Damoiselles, Mademoiselles, et aux 
Dames! Let us all join in the cry! 

In the one case, we have " Admiration." 
We behold, are fascinated — delighted. In 
the other, our whole happiness is centred in 


The Wife is the " Angel of Life ;" and be 
it ever remembered by all admirers of St. 
Valentine, that — 

"Love" is an egotism, divisible (only) 
by Two. 

A Short Winter's Eamble. 

admirers of all 
It is both na- 
So — Hommage 

Have you not sometimes seen an early flower 
Open its bud, and spread its silken leaves 
To catch sweet airs, and odors to bestow ; 
Then, by a keen blast nipt, pull in its leaves? 

How few people seem to contemplate 
Nature with their own eyes ! 

" I have ' brushed the dew away ' in the 
morning ! " says Mary Wolstonecraft ; " but 
pacing over the fruitless grass, I have won- 
dered that, in such delightful situations, the 
sun was allowed to rise in solitary majesty, 
'while my eyes alone hailed its beautiful beams. 
The webs of the evening have still been 
spread across the hedged path, unless some 
laboring man, trudging to work, disturbed 
the fairy structure; yet, in spite of this 
supineness, when I joined the social circle, 
every tongue rang changes on the pleasures 
of the country ! ! " This is a very shrewd 
and sensible remark, Miss W.; hitting scores 
of " country " people '' very hard ; " and we 
can confirm, by repeated observations, the 
truth of it. Those who live in the country 
must, to enjoy it, be possessed of a soul. — 
This, by the way. 

Do any of our readers chance to recollect 
Saturday, January 24 ? It was a cold, chilly, 
wintry, ague-ish day; and at night, rain 
poured down like a deluge. It affected us, 
it affected everybody. " All in the Downs ! " 
was the burden of our ditty on that day. 

We tucked our head beneath our wing, we 
remember, overnight, anticipating a sorrow- 
ful, gloomy Sabbath morn. 

To our great surprise (the voice of chan- 
ticleer, at early dawn, causing us to take a 
sly peep from the chamber window by way of 
reconnoitring), the morning was bright and 
beautiful. The elements were calm, and the 
whole external aspect "lovely," — there is 
no other word so • apt ' to express it. 

To spring from our couch was the work 
of a single moment ; nor were we long in 
equipping ourselves to get into the open air. 
We found the wind had been ' mischievous ; ' 
the rain heavy, and the night boisterous. 
But the scene Avas now so placid, the moon 
so beautiful in her paleness, and the retiring 
stars so eloquent in their silent grandeur, 
that we rejoiced exceedingly at having 
bounded forth. 

The morning meal over — " Editors " are 
' famous hands ' at anything ' savory ' and 
piquant ! — the toilette was quickly made ; 
and certain of our ' Household Gods ' being 
unable from illness to take our arm as usual, 
we trotted off to church alone. Acton, dear 
little Acton ! was the village that attracted 
our steps. The Kev. Clergyman who 
officiates here, Mr. Antrobus, is a talisman 
that attracts many. It is worth a much 
longer walk than ours, to listen to the words 
of wisdom which ever and anon fall from his 
lips. We have profited oft, and hope to do 
so yet many times more, by the sound 
instructions that he has gently labored to 
inculcate. Let us bid him God-speed ! 

Arrived before the little village church, 
we found the hands of the clock pointing 20 
minutes past 11 ! Horrified at our neglect 
of being in time, we deliberated what to do. 
Should we go in ? or, should we not ? Some- 
thing whispered — " It is shameful to set so 
bad an example by going in late. You ought 
to be ashamed of yourself ! " We felt that 
the monitor within us was a faithful one. 
We obeyed it. Turning for the fifth time 
away from the porch door, we thought, as 
"a child of nature," we would range the 
fields ; and there, as the poet has it, — 

*' Look through Nature up to Nature's God." 

The resolve once made, was as quickly 
acted upon. Wheeling to the left, we soon found 
ourselves, with a majestic, glorious sun above 
our heads, travelling onwards — first towards 
Friar's Place, and ultimately towards Har- 
lesdon Green and Harrow. We have drawn 
attention to the previous day, January 24. 
That was a day to be forgotten. This was 
as lovely, bright, and splendid a morning as 
we ever remember seeing, even in May. 
Here and there we saw an early opening 
flower. The sheep were browsing on the 
slopes, the cattle were feeding in the pad- 
docks ; the rain-drops, like spangles, trembled 



on the twigs and sprays, and all Nature was 
" lively." What most attracted our attention 
— if, indeed, we are justified in making any 
exception where all was so beautifully-en- 
chanting to the eye — was the extraordinary 
activity of our friends, the birds. 

We found thrushes in abundance, "piping" 
away right merrily ; blackbirds, too, melodi- 
ously discoursing (but very soft music). The 
robins were in excellent voice ; we never 
heard more variety or fulness of expression. 
The skylark, too, was carolling aloft. They 
seemed all to have " mates." This, perhaps, 
may account for their excellence. Like our- 
selves, these birds of the air hate solitude. 
There must he " one " to divide the heart ; 
and then, it can " sing" right joyously. We 
mean to be in ' full song ' all the rest of the 
year ; and if our readers will only listen to 
us, they shall judge of the 'quality' of our 
voice. It would take much to ' put our 
pipe out ' when once we are in tune. If 
we feel " happy " now, what shall we be — 

" When Spring comes in with all her fairy train ? " 

Our brain reels. We will not think of it, — 
if we can help it. 

But we must hasten to conclude this little 
episode between Winter and Spring. In ad- 
dition to the birds already spoken of, Dickey 
Dunnock and Jenny Wren greeted us 
right merrily in our advances. From tree 
to tree, from hedge to hedge, leafless though 
they were, we were escorted by them and 
others throughout our entire walk. 

We whistled to them ; evidently pleased, 
they sang to us ; and so we rejoiced in 
each others' company. Nor was this cheer- 
ful morning's walk without its moral in- 
fluence on the mind. 

Seated on one of the railway viaducts in 
the close proximity of Acton, we turned 
our eye on the many passing objects before 
us, beneath us, and around us. There wa3 
the wide world, as good as God ever made 
it ; there were his creatures, enjoying the 
bounties of his provision, and basking in the 
literal sunshine of his favor. How is it, 
thought we, that with all these grand gifts, 
these means adapted, if properly applied, to 
make us all happy, we are yet miserable and 
unsociable — suspicious of each other, and 
filled with dark forebodings and anticipations 
of evil ? We came to the conclusion that 
selfishness and pride are the great drawbacks 
to human happiness ; and we entered it in 
our " Private Note Book, " that till these 
are annihilated — at the grand Day of 
Judgment — happiness below will never be 
found! "Tis true! 'tis pity; pity 'tis, 
'tis true ! " 

Our soliloquy over, and the extent of our 
walk completed, a sudden " change came 
o'er the spirit of the scene." The extensive 
sea of cerulean blue became covered with 

dark clouds, engendered with mischief. The 
winds began to howl ; the heat of the sun 
was overpowered by an intensely-cold atmos- 
phere, and once more all Nature succumbed 
to the "order" of the season. The dear 
little birds dropped away, one by one, from 
our side ; the thrushes flew into cover ; and 
the chaffinch ceased pink-ing; the robins 
discontinued their merry peal ; and all 
became "hushed." 

All this change, thought we — as we re- 
turned, musing, homeward — and in the short 
space of three hours ! 

" Such is Life !" 


I love, sweet bird, to hear thee sing, 

As, soaring high on buoyant wing, 
Thou fill'st the air in tuneful glee, 

With song of grateful melody. 
Would that /, too, like thee, could rise 

Far upwards — near the glorious skies ; 
Away, away from cares which vex, 

From doubts which harass and perplex ; 
From thrall of earth, escaping free, 

I'd sing more blithely e'en than thee ! 
And as with untir'd wing I'd soar, 

Those realms of ether to explore, 
My soul would drink deep draughts of joy — 

So pure, unmix'd, without alloy, 
That when its pinions, forc'd to bend 

In downward flight, did slow descend 
(If thought of good were there before), 

Less dross, methinks, would dull the ore; 
Some fouler spot would be eifac'd, 

And better, higher feelings trac'd. 
Eenew'd, refresh'd from earthly broil, 

From life's ne'er-ending, ceaseless toil, 
From time to time, 'twould soar above, 

To gain fresh gladness, hope, and love. 
It may not be. — Farewell, sweet bird ; thy lay 

Will haunt me through the live-long day ; 
While many an idle wish will spring 

Within my heart, for thy wild wing ! 


In an article on the Siskin ( Fringilla Spinus), 
which appeared in a popular London periodical 
some years ago, there occurs the following pas- 
sage: — "There is no authenticated instance of 
the nest being found in any part of the British 
Islands, and the ornithologists of the Continent, 
where the bird certainly does breed in considerable 
numbers, do not seem to be altogether agreed 
about the peculiar locality of the nest." The 
article is evidently a compilation, written by one 
who personally knew nothing about the Siskin ; 
and though the names of Mudie, Bechstein, and 
Professor Eennie, are introduced into the article, 
I have no hesitation in saying that the above 
statement is altogether erroneous. The high 
authorities referred to, may have led many 
to believe that Siskins do not breed in this 
country ; but, if such a statement were made here, 
in the north of Scotland, a school-boy could tell 



that it was altogether a mistake. ■From personal 
observation, and from the testimony of men who 
have made birds their trade and study for yeai*s, 
I can state, as a positive fact, that the Siskin 
breeds here in considerable numbers; and that 
the peculiar locality of the nest is, also, well 

For a great many years, indeed as far back as 
the memory of the oldest bird-catcher (a peculiar 
character by the way) can carry us, this has been 
observed in the north of Scotland ; and it is so 
notorious, that it can be at once authenticated; 
and one of the fraternity, to whom I denied the 
fact for a bit of a lark, flatly told me I knew 
nothing about Siskins, or I would never make 
such a gross mistake. 

In the autumn season, the bird-catchers in 
Aberdeen buckle up the call-birds, take their 
bird-lime and sticks, and go out into the country; 
six, ten, and even twenty miles up Deeside being 
favorite spots to catch the young Siskins ; and so 
plentiful is the harvest at times, that I have seen 
scores of them at the market. Many of them 
are so young that I have seen the old birds feed- 
ing them in the cage, when exposed for sale in 
the open market-place — with people passing close 
beside the cage, through the course of the day. 
This has also been told me by the dealers, over 
and over again. 

My avocations take me up into the Deeside 
district daily for upwards of eight miles from the 
city, and I have therefore frequent opportunities 
for observing the haunts and habits of the Siskin, 
which is very common there at all times. In this 
district, during the summer season, the scenery 
is really beautiful and romantic ; the wood, the 
rock, and stream, abound in almost every direc- 
tion. It is indeed the— 

" Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, 
Land of the mountain and the flood." 

It is, moreover the favorite haunt of the Siskins, 
and, until of late, before the depredations of 
the bird-catchers had, Malthus-like, thinned 
the population, they abounded there in vast 
numbers. Of late years, however, they have 
become more scarce, though not by any means 
rare, as they may still be seen there at all 
seasons. I have often seen the old birds, fol- 
lowed by their young ones, flying in search of 
food along the side of the turnpike road ; and 
where the sourdock abounded in full seed, I have 
seen them feeding their young with great 
patience and perseverance, over and over again ; 
and so tame are they, that I have often almost 
put my hand on them before they took to their 
wings to fly off, and even then it was only to 
alight again at a short distance on the road. 

I have known bird-catchers discover the nest 
of the Siskin many times ; indeed, it is quite 
a common occurrence. I have observed them, 
on discovering a nest with the young birds ready 
for removal (that is to say, just before they could 
fly), trap the old birds, and put them all into one 
cage together; and the old birds would feed and 
rear up the young till they could take seed like 
themselves. They are so easily tamed, that soon 
after they are caught they come to take food 
from the hand, and thus show that they know 
those who give them their supply of seed. 

As to the particular locality of the nest, in 
which Continental ornithologists are not alto- 
gether agreed, it is well known to the bird- 
catchers in the north. In the hope that it will 
be both amusing and instructive, I will relate the 
way in which I first became acquainted with 
the local habitation of the Siskin last season. 

I have occasion to pass along the avenue 
leading to a gentleman's seat, about four miles 
from the Granite City, in the district to which I 
have already referred ; and for some time I heard 
the peculiar call of the Siskin, and invariably at 
or near the same situation. The avenue being- 
surrounded with trees in every direction — the 
fir, the ash, the elm, and the beech tree towering 
up in verdant beauty all around, I suspected that 
there was a nest somewhere in the locality, which 
seemed admirably adapted for the haunt of birds. 
But how to find it out was the question ; and a 
puzzling question it was, too, for some time to 
come. The old birds kept at a provoking dis- 
tance from any neat-looking tree, and so I had 
no resource but to watch in the hope that I should 
discover the old birds visiting the tree in which 
the nest was concealed. How I watched and 
how I searched can be known only to those who 
have been engaged in a similar operation. I was 
often disappointed, even when I thought myself 
on the eve of making the grand discovery; yet 
patience and perseverance were at length crowned 
with success. At last, one of the old birds 
descended into a very likely tree, and I at once com- 
menced the attack. But here again I was doomed 
to disappointment, for as I did not know where 
to look among the branches, I searched for some 
time in vain. As I had only a very limited time 
to spend on each day, I was, on this occasion, 
compelled to go home unrewarded for my pains. 

The following day I renewed my search in the 
most determined manner ; and in the hope that 
the young ones might be just ready to fly, I gave 
the tree a very rough shaking, and will not deny 
even having thrown up a stone or two, to assist the 
youngsters in their flight ; but, as I imagined, 
it was all in vain— the young birds would not 
stir. However, as the old birds continued to fly 
round the tree quite close at hand, I was confident 
that the nest was there, and I determined to mount 
and search again. 

This I did, and at last discovered the nest. It 
was built on an off-shooting branch of the tree, 
about the middle of the branch, away from the 
stem of the tree, and at a height of about 
twelve feet from the ground. But my rough 
handling had unhoused the nestlings. One of 
them was lying outside the nest, and another 
was sprawling on the branch beneath, and the 
third I discovered lying on the ground at the foot 
of the tree. 

As they were not above half feathered, I 
resolved to put them back into the nest ; and I 
felt considerable solicitude as to how the old 
birds would behave, and as to whether the young 
had been injured with the rough handling they 
had got. Next day, I was much pleased to see 
that they were alive and hearty, and for five r 
six clays after that the old birds continued to feed 
and rear them up, as if nothing whatever had 
happened to disturb the usual tranquillity of the 



I then took them home and reared them up ; 
feeding them by hand on bread and egg till they 
were able to shift for themselves. They are still 
alive, and in good health and excellent spirits. 
They turned out to he two cock birds and a hen; 
and as they were reared beside a Belgian canary 
(a remarkably strong singer), the cocks soon 
learned the canary notes, which they now sing 
quite distinctly. 

The peculiar, long drawling note with which 
the Siskin finishes his song, they have entirely 
abandoned, as a useless and very unmusical 
superfluity ; and they may be pronounced very 
proficient scholars of his Belgian Highness. 

I may state that the nest was a very comfort- 
able dwelling, built somewhat after the fashion 
of the chaffinch, but far more loosely put together. 
In conclusion, let mc remark, to corroborate what 
you have yourself frequently asserted in the 
Gardeners' Chronicle — no person is qualified to 
speak or write about the haunts, the habits, and 
management of birds, who has not had personal 
experience of the same. All compilations from 
old books are of no value, and only serve to prove 
the ignorance of the compilers. — D. W. 

[Our correspondent, in his zeal to prove the 
correctness of his statement, offers (in his note) 
to dispose of one of the two Siskins, which is in 
fine voice. If any of our readers should feel a 
curiosity to become the owner of so valuable a 
bird, we will take charge of a written commu- 


"In the multitude of counsellors there is safety." 

To the Editor of "Kidd's Journal." 

Sir, — I have more than one reason not to be 
pleased with the "title" of your Paper. In the 11 
first place, it is not a new one ; but this would 
not he so objectionable, if the patronymic could 
be traced to a respectable ancestor. It is -now 
more than a hundred years since the first of the 
family endeavored to intrude itself into good 
society; but from its dulness and stupidity, it 
obtained admission only into a few houses of 
respectability. Among these was a crotchety 
old gentleman, who took it in out of pure charity 
to the "poor devils" whose writings prolonged 
its existence. His reason for continuing his 
patronage was somewhat whimsical. " The 
London Journal," said he, " puts me to sleep; 
and my servant never fails to ask me very 
gravely, ' Does your honor intend to lake your 
'London Journal' to night?' To do him jus- 
tice," said the old gentleman, "he reads with a 
becoming monotony, perfectly in accordance with 
the character of this Journal." But the low 
estimation in which that London Journal was 
held, is not the proximate cause of my distaste 
for the title of your Paper. 

When your second number appeared, I ap- 
plied to a bookseller for The London Journal; 
but I was somewhat surprised, and I confess, dis- 
appointed, when I was told that the price was 
only " one penny." Surely, I said, Mr. Kidd's 
Journal has not already fallen so low in public 

estimation, as to he reduced one third in price; 
after all we have heard of the treat wc were to 
expect, upon the re-appearance of a periodical 
conducted by a gentleman who was once so great 
a favorite with the public! Nevertheless, I 
hastened home with my " London Journal:" but 
what was my surprise, on examining its contents, 
to find myself the possessor of a penny picture 
book, filled with that kind of " literature" which 
scientific men are not very fond of reading ! De- 
termined, however, to turn the penny I had spent 
to some account, I took the hint of the crotchety 
old gentleman, and requested one of my family to 
give me " The London Journal " after I had re- 
tired to rest. The experiment answered admi- 
rably : in five minutes I was fast asleep. 

Now this is not the case when I am so impru- 
dent as to take too large a dose of your Journal. 
The new ideas it engenders, keep me awake ; so 
that I have resolved, in future, to reserve your 
Paper for my morning studies, that I may have 
the day before me to digest its valuable and en- 
tertaining contents. 

But to come to the point. I see no reason why 
you should not re-baptise your Paper; retaining 
only your own name in addition to that of 
Journal. Your well-known reputation will 
acquit you of vanity ; and to my fancy, your title 
will be more neat and appropriate. Eor myself, 
I am resolved never to ask for your Paper 
under any other name than that of " Kidd's 

I am, Sir, &c, 

A Lover op Natural History. 

[As we have invariably found " Honesty 
to be the best policy," we will frankly 
confess that our Title HAS caused a succes- 
sion of unfortunate mistakes. In a host of 
instances, another paper has been substi- 
tuted for our own. This is by no means 
the fault of the Proprietor of the paper 
alluded to. We absolve him from even the 
suspicion of such a thing. It results entirely 
from the gross ignorance of the people who 
are in the habit of selling periodicals ; many 
of whom not being able to read, and evi- 
dently imagining one " London Journal" to be 
quite as good as another, invariably supply 
the "picture book" as our Correspondent 
calls it, because it is the cheapest as to 
quantity. A lady residing on Notting-hill, 
was nearly a fortnight in trying to convince 
her bookseller that there was a difference 
between the two papers ; nor ivould he 
procure ours until compelled. He gave in 
at last, simply and solely because he was 
ashamed of contradicting a lady so repeatedly. 
The fact is, ours and Leigh Hunt's were 
the Original " London Journals " of mo- 
dern times. Illness caused us to halt ; and 
we merely re-assumed the title to let our 
friends know of our being again afloat. We 
shall seriously consider , the question, so 
kindly raised by our zealous Correspondent, 
as to a change in our title — " A Kose by 
any other name would smell as sweet."] 




Larry. — "We thank you. But before your article 
arrived, one on a similar subject (St. Valentine's Day) 
from our own pen, was in type. It cannot now be 
rendered available. Should like to know where to 
address you. 

"A Plain Speaker" who, for the second time, be- 
strides us, is a very impertinent, as well as a singularly- 
ignorant man. We write out his "character," gra- 
tuitously. To quote his own ridiculously-familiar 
words, "This is quite between ourselves!" If this 
" Old Man of the Sea" again trouble us, we will print 
both his letters in full, a punishment not greater than 
the offence committed. 

Bullfinch. — Bead page 28 of the London Journal, 
very carefully. You will there find your questions fully 

A. L. — It is too early yet to " pair " your birds. We will 
tell you all about it in good time. 

Flora G. — It is "trying" to us, when our Correspondents 
neglect to send their addresses. How can we reply 
" promptly " in such cases 1 Write again. 

J. S. — Our space is so circumscribed, that "Fugitive 
Poetry" can only be admissible under very peculiar 
circumstances. We are already overwhelmed with 
similar "kind offerings." This "reply" will suffice 
for all the writers. Their favors have merit, and 
would be readily available in a Monthly Magazine. 

New Subscribers, and Casual Readers, are referred to 
the Leading Article in our First Number for the 
detailed objects of the London Journal : to these 
we shall rigidly adhere. 

Private Letters. — Of these we daily receive such 
immense quantities, that we must really beg the 
writers to excuse our not replying to them. Our time 
is more profitably occupied. All vacancies, as they are 
called, are filled up. Let this general answer suffice. 

Correspondents sending in any " facts" connected with 
Science or Natural History, are requested in every 
case to append their names and places of abode. In no 
instance, however, will their names be published with- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others. — It having been 
deemed expedient, to meet the views of the Trade, that 
this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
tion, Contributors and others will be so* kind as to 
bear in mind that they must give us an extra " week's 
grace," and wait patiently till their favors appear. 

All persons who may send in MSS., but which may not 
be " accepted," are requested to preserve copies of 
them, as the Editor cannot hold himself responsible 
for their return. 

To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
need only order it to be sent to them by any of their 
local Booksellers or Newsvendors. It is published 
simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 

Saturday, February 14, 1852. 

" Can I see the Editor of Kidd's London 
Journal ? " asked a very interesting young 
lady, in her expiring teens, and with golden 
ringlets, of our worthy publisher the other 
day. (She held a " sealed packet " in her 
tiny hand.) 

"No, Mademoiselle," replied the worthy 
bibliopole, with the radiant smile that always 
illumines his benevolent countenance— es- 
pecially when addressed by a lady — "No! 
Mademoiselle, you cannot." 

" May I ask when he will be here ? " con- 
tinued the fair questioner, with increasing 

" You may ask, Mademoiselle, certainly," 
was the rejoinder ; " but I can give you no 
satisfactory ' answer.' I have myself trans- 

acted many — very many matters of business 
with the Editor, and handed him over large 
sums of money for the sales effected on his 
Journal; but I have never seen him, 


On this, we are told, the fair postulant 
looked sorrowful — her heart being too full 
for utterance. Let us here do honor to the 
kindly disposition of our publisher. Calling 
her aside, he spoke to the golden Niobe as 
follows :— 

" You are not perhaps aware, Mademoiselle, 
that the Editors of our public Papers are 
never known — never seen. As ' divinity 
is said to hedge about a King,' so doth ' in- 
visibility ' hedge about an Editor, We 
sometimes hear his footstep, it is true ; some • 
times see the bare outline of his shadow — 
but it is invariably gone 'ere we can reach 

" Is it even so ! " groaned his fair auditor ; 
" then have I come all this long distance, to 
open my heart to him, in vain ! I observed 
in his own Paper, that thrice a-day was the 
task his, to call here, and carry away the 
contents of his Letter-box. Is this not 
true ? " 

" It is true, and yet it is not true, sweet 
lady. Something calls here thrice a-day, 
concealed in a large cloak ; and from this 
mysterious cloak issues as mysterious a hand, 
with a key in it. We see ■ the hand ' 
plainly, and see it apply the key to the casket, 
or ' lion's mouth,' as we call it. An im- 
mense packet of letters is then carefully 
removed by the hand ; the box closes ; the 
lock is shot ; and the same mystery that 
accompanied the visitor on its entrance, at- 
tends it on its exit. You, Mademoiselle, 
are not the only inquirer after the Editor of 
Kidd's London Journal ; we are literally 
besieged, day by day, by ladies and gentle - 
men, who say they must and will see him. 
We tell them just what we have told you ; 
and now, with your kind permission, as 
time presses, I must take my leave." 

Thus spake the Bookseller — whilst his in- 
nocent listener, in confusion, glided from 
his sight. We are not quite sure whe- 
ther some portion of this ' confusion ' 
does not attach to us, whilst we pen this. 
The paper we write on, is certainly damp ; 
and it was dry when we took it from the 
Letter-book. " Odd " this, very ! By the 
way, we had the above little narrative " hot " 
from a party who had concealed himself 
behind the "pillar of the Confessional." 

This is truly consolatory to us ; and we 
rejoice to have pitched upon so discreet a 
publisher — and not only discreet, but so po- 
lite and courteous withal. We have cud- 
gelled our brain, till our sight has become 
dim, |to imagine who the possessor of the 
fairy golden tresses can be ; but no clue exists 



as yet. Still we live " on hope ;" and trust 
some day to receive a " missive " explanatory 
of the motive that rendered our presence a 
matter of such importance. If the " missive " 
should arrive, we will endeavor " on this 
occasion only" to grant the really-reasonable 
request (under such circumstances), of a per- 
sonal interview. We do it on our own re- 
sponsibility ; and entreat our King of Pub- 
lishers to keep our sacred presence as invio- 
lable as ever. We know Everything. We 
know Everybody. We hear, see, and instruct 
the whole World. We travel from town t 
town, from city to city, from family to family, 
with the speed of thought. We are ubiqui- 
tous. Our devotion is perfect to all our 
readers ; we serve them cheerfully ; we write 
for them with extreme delight. But we are 
bound to tell them, as doth our amiable 
publisher — that we are not visible, neither 
are we palpable to the touch. We are a 
fairy sprite. 

We owe it to our Correspondents, to ex- 
plain to them why it is that their various 
favors have not all been inserted. The 
cause is simply this : — We go to press one 
number under another, or one week in ad- 
vance. This of course throws the contribu- 
tions one week into arrear. Our columns 
will only admit a certain quantity of matter ; 
and this has to be " varied." Patience, 
therefore, as we have before hinted, " must 
have her perfect work." We will bring up 
arrears with all due diligence. All letters 
requiring immediate replies, we have at- 
tended to by post. 


Disease in a Pigeon. How can I cure it ? — 
Some time since I lost a very favorite pigeon, by 
the formation of a lump, about the size of a small 
nut, under his tongue. The inside of the mouth 
was quite yellow ; and as the bird was unable to 
eat, I killed it. I have another, which is just 
visited in the same way, and the mouth is be- 
coming yellow. Can any of your correspond- 
ents tell me the cause of this, and, above all, 
inform me how to cure it ? I am truly unfor- 
tunate. — J. S., Mitcham. 

Canaries for Breeding, — Will you kindly assist 
me with a few words of advice as to the proper 
time for " putting up " canaries to pair, and to 
breed from ; also show the best method of treat- 
ment, &c., &c? — J. R. 

[Our library table is literally strewed with 
letters from young ladies and their brothers, all 
imploring our advice on a similar subject. As 
we are well known to be " great*' on such mat- 
ters, we say " wait a little." It is far too early 
yet, to think about this. Next month will be 
quite time enough. Early broods always suffer 
from the biting winds of March and April, and 
seldom thrive. You may purchase your birds 

for breeding, immediately; but be careful not to 
keep the hens in the same apartments as 
their intended husbands. They will be plight- 
ing their vows too soon ; this, in birds, is highly 
objectionable. Take the hint.] 

Ailment of a Green Parrot. — A green parrot, 
yellow-headed, lively, and robust, began to moult 
in last March or April, when suddenly, the lid 
of the right eye became weak, and finally closed 
over the or^an, and has continued so up to the 
present time. A slight sore then appeared at 
the bottom of one of the pinions of the left wing, 
and in about a month after, a hard excrescence, 
from the paring or pressure of which the bird 
appears to suffer no pain, grew on the right side 
of the head, just behind the eye, and another on 
the neck towards the left side cf the head. The 
bird's spirits, however, continued to be good 
until last October, when he became silent and 
sleepy, and has remained so up to the present 
time. During the last three months, he has 
voided at times with difficulty; occasionally the 
intestines seeming to be very loose, and, at other 
times, the motion being attended with much 
straining and effort. The food consists of strained 
bread and milk, Indian corn, and some hemp; 
a bit of potatoe every day, and occasionally, 
pepper pods, and roasted apple. In spite of these 
varied ailments, the bird's appetite has been, and 
continues to be, excellent. Can any of your 
readers, and if so, will they oblige me by " show- 
ing cause, and suggesting a remedy," for the 
above? — L. G. W., Dublin. 

The Blach-cap. — Erom reading your most 
delightful description of this bird, in the Gar- 
deners' Chronicle, I have been induced to buy 
one, and he has turned out a splendid bird. I 
feeti him, according to your instructions, on 
German paste, bruised hemp seed, and bread. 
Is this right ? [Sponge cake, or stale sweet bun 
is preferable to bread.] Pie is fidgetty when he 
sees a candle. How shall I hang him ? In the 
dark, or near a window ? High or low ? — 
W. D. 

[You are acting quite right with your bird. 
If he is shy, cover him up at night, by all means. 
As winter is fast decaying, we give advice which, 
had winter been coming on, we should have re- 
versed. Black-caps are splendid candle-light 
songsters. Hang him moderately low, and let 
him face a cheerful window. Do not shift his 
quarters often, as they get used to one particular 
situation. We have left out that part of your 
note, referring to our ' ' abilities" in treating upon 
these birds. But rest content, when we assure 
you that, if we have sung sweetly of the Black- 
cap, we shall anon sing of him again, and more 
sweetly than ever. We love the darling rogue 
too well, to be silent when he is amongst us.] 

The Amazon Parrot. — As you have already 
stated, that your own personal knowledge of 
the nature and economy of these birds is very 
limited, will some of your obliging and intelli- 
gent correspondents answer me the following 
questions? My bird, which is now dead, ate 
heartily, and was very cheerful, but her inside 

was in a most distressing state. What passed 
from her was thin, often of a clear greenish 
color; and she occasionally was sick. Then 
she would sneeze violently, and was troubled 
with intense thirst. On one occasion, she 
voided pure blood. Had she ruptured a blood- 
vessel ? The last day of her life was marked by 
a decided change. She refused to eat, and sat 
moping on her perch. When I approached her, 
she made one last effort to come on my hand ; 
and when nestled in my bosom, seemed per- 
fectly "happy" there. All consciousness, how- 
ever, disappeared in a few short hours, and I 
was bereft of a most affectionate friend and 
companion. Had the mineral water of Tun- 
bridge Wells, in which her bread was soaked, 
anything to do with the matter? I had the bird 
five years, and I wish to know how / ought to 
have treated her. — Ada., Tunbridge Wells. 

[We imagine it possible, the water might have 
something to do with the death of this unfor- 
tunate bird; especially as you say, in another 
part of your note, it fell ill the very day after 
your arrival at the Wells. All we can do is, to 
sympathise with you, which we do most sin- 
cerely. Some of our good friends will, no doubt, 
soon throw a light upon what more is desired.] 

Propagation of Eels by " Spawn ; " a tl Vulgar 
Error." — You have done the community much 
good service by exposing the cheat recently at- 
tempted to be put upon them in this matter. All 
sound argument is in your favor, I have cut 
the enclosed from my copy of the Gardeners' 
Chronicle, January 24. It is short, and its 
pithiness is quite to the point: — "I caught an 
eel left by the tide in a small pool on the sands 

near B 1, and, for a boyish whim, carried it 

home alive, and placed it in a very small tank 
of salt water. The next morning, to my surprise, 
I found two small eels, one in the act of leaving 
the mother. Now I have not a doubt that this 
fact may be questioned ; yet I must believe what 
I saw. — Observatory Whether the " fact " be 
" questioned " by Mr. Boccius or not, is of little 
consequence. I believe it, and so will the public. 
— Truth. 

[We also beg to insert the remarks of three 
other correspondents. We have received a multi- 
tude of letters, from all quarters, on the subject: 
but as all these tend one way, they would occupy 
more space to-day than can be well spared. Mr. 
Boccius must, ere this, have seen his error. He 
has not attempted to reply.] 

Having noticed the communications on this 
subject which have recently appeared in your 
columns, I am desirous of mentioning a fact, 
which appears to me to throw some light upon 
the localities in which eels are bred, though it 
leaves the question of the mode of generation 
precisely where it stood before. Like your cor- 
respondent "T. G.," I have many times seen 
columns of small eels, three or four inches long, 
ascending the Ribble and other rivers, in the 
months of May and June, at considerable dis- 
tances from the sea ; but only on one occasion 
have I seen them under circumstances which 
evidently brought them near the place of their 
nativity. I happened to be attending the Lan- 
caster spring assizes in the month of March, in 

(I believe) the year 1826, and learning that 
there was a remarkably high tide in the estuary of 
the Lune, I walked down to the river side about 
high water, and found that the tide had covered 
the grass in many places; and, as it began to 
ebb, I observed something moving in a very small 
hollow which had been overflowed, and in which 
a little water had been left behind. On examina- 
tion, I found that the moving bodies were ex- 
ceedingly diminutive eels, rather less, to the best 
of my recollection, than three-quarters of an 
inch long, very light colored, and almost 
transparent, but exhibiting, in every respect, the 
true form of the mature eel. They had evidently 
followed the water to its extreme verge, where 
it could not have been more than an inch deep ; 
and that they must have been very numerous 
was clear, from the large numbers which were 
left behind and perished; for that they did 
perish I found on the following day, when they 
were lying dead by hundreds on the grass. Pro- 
bably some of your correspondents, who reside in 
localities favorable for making observations on 
this subject, may be induced to pay a little atten- 
tion to it. If the young eels make their appear- 
ance in the same manner every year, by the use 
of a fine muslin net, the exact period of their 
first appearance may be ascertained, with pro- 
bably other facts calculated to throw light on 
the obscure question of their generation. — J, G., 

Your correspondent is quite in error when he 
supposes eels are not produced in fresh water, 
as the following fact will prove. Some years 
since, the Eiver Avon, at Bath, either from ex- 
cessive drought, or from being cleansed, was nearly 
exhausted, and I examined a considerable part 
of the bed of the river. On turning up some 
large stones imbedded in the mud, I dis- 
covered myriads of young eels in clusters, 
from the size of a thread to that of a crow quill, 
concealed under them. Stone after stone I 
turned over in this way, exposing numbers to 
light, I expect for the first time; and, judging 
from their contortions, very much to their as- 
tonishment. I can only say, if these eels had 
ever migrated from the sea, they must have 
commenced their journey very young, as it 
was full fifteen or sixteen miles from the spot 
where I thus intruded upon their domestic pri- 
vacy. — C. H. B., Fulham. 

The question of the breeding of eels having 
been mooted in a late number of your Journal, 
without much illuminating the " muddy dark- 
ness " of the subject, I beg leave to cast a mite or 
two into the very limited fund of information we 
possess on the interesting habits and localities of 
these mysterious fish. Inviting your company 
into the New Forest, in Hampshire, we there shall 
fall in with frequent pools and splashes of water at 
this season of the year, which pools become com- 
pletely dried up in the summer. Towards the end 
of autumn, the mud, or soft soil, becomes suf- 
ficiently baked and hardened by the sun to bear 
the weight of cattle passing over it. When in 
that state, the cottagers are in the habit of dig- 
ging over the black soil, seeking for eels! Many 
of these are found imbedded in the damp earth, at 
depths of from twelve to eighteen inches below the 
surface, in numbers sufficient to repay them for 

their toil. Now, as these pools are completely 
isolated — having neither drains nor ditches into or 
out of them — how come the eels to be found there ? 
The foresters account for their presence without a 
moment's difficulty, by saying they are brought 
by the herons and cranes. There will be found 
no great difficulty in believing that, until killed 
by the gastric juice of the bird's stomach, an eel 
must be expected to make strenuous efforts to 
escape from the heron's maw, and that occasion- 
ally the bird may be glad to get rid of so trouble- 
some a guest; and thus the existence of eels in 
isolated pools may be accounted for. One of 
your correspondents, I observe, speaks of the 
migration of eels to salt water. Extensive op- 
portunities of observation, and many years' ex- 
perience, enable me to say, that more than one 
kind of eel makes those yearly migrations; but 
there is reason to believe that the finest species of 
silver eel (there appear to be more than one 
species of the silver eel) remains all the year 
round in one locality. The River Windrush, 
which runs between Burford and Witney, in 
Oxfordshire, abounds with silver eels, which are fre- 
quently taken in baskets at the grist-mills, weigh- 
ing from 5 to 9 lbs. apiece. But although the 
Windrush falls into the Thames without any ob- 
struction to the passage of its fish, no silver, or 
indeed any other kind of eel of larger weight than 
3 lbs., has been taken between Windsor and 
Richmond in gins, wears, baskets, or by night- 
lines, or other " engines," in the memory 
of the oldest "fishermen," who there ply 
their vocation. It is clear therefore that the 
large eels of the Windrush do not pass down the 
Thames to the sea. But still, silver eels of a 
small size — that is, seldom or never exceeding 
2 lbs. in weight, are met with and taken all the 
way down the Thames. I have, however, not 
only seen, but eaten, of a 9 lbs. silver eel taken out 
of the Windrush, which eel was roasted on a spit 
with a dry stuffing inside, and served up on the 
table of Mr. Hyett, of Painswick House, late 
M.P. for Stroud, and proved the best-flavored 
eel I ever tasted. N.B. — The use of the stuffing 
was to absorb the extra richness of the fish. — 
R. D. 

More Anecdotes of the Domestic Cat. — Being 
a subscriber to your valuable Journal, and having 
for some years been a close observer of the in- 
structive (and I may say reasoning) habits of 
animals, I herewith send you one or two recol- 
lections of the Domestic Cat, as I perceive you 
have been publishing "Reminiscences, by a 
Lady." The following circumstances can be 
attested by numerous individuals, who will re- 
cognise the source from whence they came. 
Some time ago I had a favorite cat, who followed 
me about the house just as a dog would do. 
Being fond of shooting near home (where Hived 
we had a large garden, and an orchard of some 
extent attached), I used the common air-gun to 
shoot sparrows, chaffinches, and the like small 
fry ; and it was most amusing to watch the 
looks of " pussy " the moment she saw me pre- 
paring to charge the gun with air. She knew, 
as well as I did, when I commenced pumping, 
what was going to follow. We then proceeded 
in search of " game," and it was most amusing 

to witness her actions. She would follow close 
at my heels, and when I presented the gun, 
would make a dead stand ; and as soon as I tired 
would run and pick up the bird. She has been 
known to do the same thing very frequently. 
The other anecdote is equally amusing, but dif- 
ferent of its kind, and by another cat. My cara 
sposa having noticed from time to time, a short 
time after we had our breakfast or tea, that the 
cream-jug was regularly emptied, felt rather 
puzzled to account for it ; more especially as we 
had no children in the house. At last, she spoke 
to me about it, and I suggested that probably 
" the cat did it." [Cats generally " do " every- 
thing, as every family man knows.] She looked 
incredulous, and wondered how I could be so 
foolish, seeing that the cream-jug was so small. 
However, I watched "pussy's" actions, and was 
much amused at the business-like manner in 
which she accomplished her object ; for it was 
" the cat " after all ! As soon as we had finished 
tea, we left the room, and setting the door ajar, 
so that we could perceive the whole proceeding, 
lay in wait to watch. My lady tabby first 
mounted my chair, then cautiously got on the 
tea-tray; and going straight to the cream-jug, 
dipped her paw into it. She then leisurely with- 
drew it, and commenced licking it with evident 
gusto, nor did she quit till she had emptied it. She 
did this so regularly, that we have many times in- 
vited our friends to come and see her do it. Most 
truly amusing was it, to witness the gravity with 
which pussy went through her performances. 
Now, Mr. Editor, whether you will call these two 
facts reason or instinct, I know not; but will just 
observe that, if not quite reason, it is much akin 

to it.— W. L>. 

Original Anecdote of the Fox.-— In order that 
your readers may marvel with myself, at the 
strange " sagacity" of animals, let me relate an 
interesting and authentic anecdote of the fox. 
One summer's evening, as a sportsman was re- 
clining beneath the shade of an old tree, his 
attention Avas suddenly attracted by hearing a 
rustling noise behind him ; and quickly turning 
his head, he perceived a fox busily engaged in 
uprooting a tuft of grass, which he carried away 
in his mouth towards a lake in a valley not far 
off. The sportsman, curious to see the result, 
followed at a distance; and observed the fox 
stealthily enter the water and swim towards the 
centre of the lake, where some restless wild-ducks 
were hovering on the wing. The tuft of grass 
which he carried in his mouth, he permitted, as 
it were, to float on the surface of the water; 
while he himself moved unperceived towards 
the object of his prey, beneath. In a few mi- 
nutes, the sportsman saw an unsuspecting bird 
alight on the green floating island; and in 
another instant, he beheld it suddenly drawn 
under the water, After a short lapse of time, 
the fox re- appeared at the margin of the lake, 
bearing his well-merited prize in his mouth. 
He then proceeded to place it in the cavity of a 
rock; carefully covering it over with sand, and 
dry leaves, which lay scattered near. He then 
hastened to secure another tuft of grass, and 
proceeded, as before, stealthily underneath the 
surface of the water, towards the centre of the 
lake. The sportsman now quickly hastened 



towards the spot where Eeynard had concealed 
his prey, and took possession of the lifeless bird; 
carefully replacing the sand and leaves over 
the cavity of the rock, so as almost to defy 
detection from the external appearance of the 
place. In a few minutes the fox returned, bear 
ing in his mouth a second helpless victim. This 
time he came accompanied by a brother fox, and 
the two proceeded together to the spot where the 
former wild-cluck had been buried/, when, to 
their surprise, on scraping off the sand and leaves 
from the cavity of the rock, they found that their 
prey had been removed. This caused them to 
deliberate for some time ; and after looking sus- 
piciously at one another, they commenced a most 
furious attack, which was only terminated by 
the sportsman levelling his gun and shooting 
one of the enraged combatants through the 
heart. The other made its escape unharmed, 
and left the sportsman in the full possession of 
the two slaughtered birds and their unfortunate 
seducer ! As I can safely vouch for the authen- 
ticity of this anecdote, it cannot fail to interest 
those who make it their pleasing occupation to 
study the " habits and peculiarities of animals." 
— K. V. Sankey. 

Intelligence in the Garden Spider. — Perhaps the 
following curious instance of intelligence and 
forethought in the common Garden Spider 
(Epeira diaclema) may interest your readers; at 
all events, you may rely on the following facts 
being quite true. Before the spider makes 
the meshes of his net, it is of course necessary 
that the line which he throws out and commits 
to a chance breeze, should attach itself to some 
distant object, and, in the case to which I allude, 
and which I and two of my family witnessed in 
our own garden, the line attached itself to a tree on 
the opposite side of the gravel walk, so that there 
Avas nothing underneath but the ground to which 
to fasten another thread to keep the whole of his 
future structure at the proper tension. Now, as 
the spider no doubt speculated on the danger of 
such a proceeding, what do you think his alterna- 
tive was, — why, to let himself down and fasten a 
small pebble to the end of a thread; and climb- 
ing up to within about a foot of the scene of his 
future operations, he left the stone to hang, and 
then finished the rest of his beautiful structure. 
He then considered himself ready for the reception 
of company. Now, the greatest advocates of 
instinct will surely not deny that, in the present 
case, the expedient of the stone is adapted to a 
contingency which can arise but seldom; and, 
consequently, that the spider reasoned about what 
he should do in such an emergency, and did the 
best that could be done under the circumstances. 
I look upon a fact like the present, as a complete 
refutation of the argument of those who deny any 
portion of " intelligence " to the lower animals. 
— B.W. 

Envy. — One of the worst things to fat on, is 
envy. In our opinion, it is as difficult for a 
grudging man to raise a double chin, as it is 
for a bankrupt to raise a loan. Plumpness 
comes not from roast beef, but from a good 
heart and a cheerful disposition. — Albany 
Dutchman. (Capital !) 


A Pen-and-ink Sketch. 

I have two sweet cousins, very unlike, yet 
very lovely — a snow-drop and a diamond. If 
earth holds a beauty unconscious of her 
charms, it is my cousin Eloise. How lovely 
she appeared when last I beheld her! the mel- 
lowed light of the shaded lamp by which she 
was reading, resting on her sweet Madonna- 
like face, and making golden lines in her rich 
chestnut hair ! My gentle cousin ! I almost 
worshipped her ; but Eloise, though in all 
other respects gentle and considerate, has no 
mercy upon love and lovers ; she has a 
merry and good-natured, but thoroughly dis- 
comfiting sarcasm, always ready to meet 
sentiment, when it takes the form of words. 
None have ever advanced beyond a single 
sentence of all that love dictates, nor has 
any living wight ever dared to make a second 
trial of so dangerous an experiment, and all 
Cupid's artillery of sighs, glances, &c, is 
thrown away upon her. She never can see 
love, and she never will hear it. 

And yet, though Eloise has never loved, 
she is, albeit her arch denials, deeply imbued 
with sentiment in every other form. Her 
expressive face contradicts the only falsehood 
to which her noble spirit ever stooped. 
Why, incomprehensible girl, wilt thou deny 
the existence of those feelings which so much 
ennoble thee? How couldstthou so wickedly 
assert that thou hadst been ' asleep ' during 
the long half hour, in the moonlit parlor, 
during which thou utteredst not a word, and 
left me to entertain myself, by watching thy 
deep dark eyes lit up with solemn enthusiasm, 
while gazing upward at night's jewels ? 
Thou wast communing with another world, 
fair cousin, and that, not (as thou hadst the 
hardihood to say when I taxed thee with it) 
the ' Land of Nod.' 

Eloise is an enthusiastic admirer of nature's 
charms. How often have I beheld her 
countenance silently and unconsciously ex- 
press the feelings which others, who possessed 
them not, were eloquently pourtraying in 
words ! And how astonished have I then been 
to hear her satirical and laughter-provoking 
reply to the rhapsodist, and how indignant, 
at her called in retaliation, — 'the most unfeel- 
ing and unsentimental girl on earth ! ' Dear, 
noble Eloise, none deny her intellectual 
superiority, but few comprehend her heart. 
She is too proud, too sensitive, to display its 
emotions to public admiration, and conse- 
quently many deny that she possesses it. 
This opinion is especially in vogue with 
those who would, but dare not, offer incense 
at her shrine. May thy fair face, my cousin, 
ever remain unclouded by sorrow, and thy 
heart (for a heart thou hast, and a warm one, 



Eloise !) never ache as thou hast unwittingly 
caused mine to do, with disappointed love ! 
Eloise has a sister younger than herself, 
and her perfect contrast. Isabelle is a 
' dark ladye,' but how gloriously dark ! 
Such a profusion of ebon braids ! Such lus- 
trous, magnificent eyes, shaded by the most 
richly-fringed curtains to be obtained of 
love's upholsterer, and — 

"Her smile kindles with a conscious glow, 
As from the thought of sovereign beauty born." 

And Isabelle is conscious of 'sovereign 
beauty ' — and means too, to do all the ex- 
ecution she can with it. How many captives 
grace her triumph whenever she appears in 
■ halls of light ! ' Admiration which her sis- 
ter would not see, she sees, and makes the 
world see it too — though her heart remains 
as unyielding as that of Eloise. But don't 
imagine that Isabelle is an unfeeling coquette 
— far from it, her ' coquetry,' as her envious 
frie?ids term it — never wounds, never degrades 
her in the eyes of her discarded suitors ; on 
the contrary, she is much more popular than 
her more delicately-honorable sister, ' the 
proud Eloise ' — whose mercy is termed l cold- 
ness ' and ' cruelty.' 

Isabelle, moreover, is frank and generous, 
devotedly attached to her family, and although 
generally most luxuriously indolent, she will 
exert herself till exhausted to serve her 
friends, especially her sister. She possesses 
a strong mind and quick perceptions, but has 
not her sister's studious tastes. She always 
had a strange habit of looking over instead 
of on her book when at her ' studies.' 
' What was the use of her studying — spoil- 
ing her eyes and her temper — when, if she 
wanted information on any subject, she 
had only to ask Eloise, who studied enough 
for both ? ' 

And Isabelle loould not be persuaded that 
her 'reasoning' was nonsense — at " least 
until schooldays were over — and now she 
congratulates herself that she will never be 
mistaken for ' that scarecrow, a blue-stock- 
ing ; ' and indeed I am, sometimes, when 
looking at her brilliant face, inclined to agree 
with some of her mustachioed adorers, who 
tell her that— 

'" The lip that's so scented by roses, 
Must never dare smell of the lamp." 

But will Isabelle, so charming a mistress, 
make an equally agreeable wife? I have 
sometimes had fears on that head; but I 
know that when Isabelle loves, she will love 
devotedly, and where her affections are con- 
cerned, her will is ever pliant. Whoever 
wins Isabelle, will mould her to his fancy ; 
for her heart and hand will be given together. 

" Any Excuse Better than None!" — Com- 
plaint against fortune, is often a masked apology 
for indolence. 


"De omnibus rebus, et qiribusdam aliis.' , 

Elegant Compliment. — When Fontenelle 
was ninety-seven years of age, he happened to be 
in company with the then young and beautiful 
Madame Helvetius, who had been married but 
a few weeks. Fontenelle was always a great 
admirer of beauty, and he had been paying the 
bride many compliments, as refined as they were 
gallant. When the guests were sitting down to 
table, however, he passed her, and sat himself 
down without perceiving her. " See, now," 
said Madame Helvetius, " what dependance is to 
be put in all your fine speeches; you pass on before, 
without looking at me ! " " Madame," said the 
gallant old man, " if I had stopped to look at 
you, 1 could never have passed on .'" 

The Fox and the Leopard. — A fox sat, in 
deep thought, at the entrance of his den. 
"What are you thinking about now?" asked 
his helpmate. 

"I will tell you: The leopard went by just 
now, and spoke to me so polite — spoke first, too." 

" What the plague does it all mean ? " 

"Why, you silly creature, what should it 
mean ? You can't know much about leopards, 
wife, if you fancy they are so polite for 
nothing! " 

There is a moral here, too obvious to require 
any comment from us. 

Advice to Persons about to eat "Heal" 
Epping Sausages, 'eondly' imagining them 

TO BE MADE OP " PORK." — Don't! 

Eeeectsop "Caloric" in America. — The 
Albany Knickerbocker, of August, says: — "The 
weather has been ' all hot.' We saw a woman 
do her ironing with no other fuel than the sun- 
shine. When we came away, she hung her 
kettle out of the window, to get tea ready." — We 
have since heard that, although it held four 
gallons of water, it boiled in less than four 
seconds. This is what the musicians call 
" quick time." 

Times Past and Times Present. — The Edi- 
tor of the Leicester Mercury has inserted a 
funny paragraph in his last paper. Kecurring 
to his juvenile days, he says: — "Nothing was 
so mnch dreaded in our schoolboy days, as to 
be 'punished' by sitting between two girls. Ah! 
the force of education! In after-years, we 
learned to submit to such things, without shed- 
ding a tear." No doubt, this has been the 
" force of habit." " Use is second nature" — if the 
proverb hold true. 


England alone, of all nations in the 
world, knows the true meaning of the word 
" Comfortable." 

The French have no word in their lan- 
guage corresponding with our " Comfort- 
able." The reason is plain, — they have 
nothing comfortable in their habits, and do 
not require a word to express that of which 
they are ignorant, A savage is no more in 



want of a fashionable vocabulary for petits 
soupers, dejeuners a la fourchette, and bals 
pares, than a Frenchman is of a word to 
denote that state of existence which the 
English call " comfortable." Comfort with 
us, means the enjoyment which we derive 
from a substantial dinner, followed by a 
bottle of exhilarating Port ; a cheering fire on 
a winter's night, with the ale posset, or hot 
elder wine, passing round the domestic 
circle : or the inside of a stage-coach, when 
well wrapped up, while the poor outside 
travellers are shivering with cold, in an 
atmosphere below zero. The French have 
no substantiality in their fare, and instead of 
sound Port, drink sour Claret. They have 
no fire-side, like ours, but sit smothering in 
the smoke from green woods ; with the doors 
and windows open, to prevent absolute suf- 
focation. They have no warm stage-coaches, 
but, when in their misnamed Diligences, are 
exposed to the drafts from broken panes of 
•glass, and a thousand creaks in the coach 
(wagon — wag- on, indeed ! for the vehicle 
can hardly be said to be in motion) pannels. 
Under such circumstances they can have no 
comfort; and do not therefore require a word, 
to express what is meant by " comfortable." 
There are, however, a few situations of 
life in which 'the French have some idea of 
the comfortable in the same way as our- 
selves, although they have no distinct word 
to characterise it. If a man is comfortable 
in his lodgings, he says — " Je Mis tres bien," 
which means,"I am very comfortable ; if lie 
is rich, he says <£ Je suis a mon aise" which 
means, that he is in what we call comfort- 
able circumstances. He says the same, too, 
when lounging on a sofa, and 'too idle for 
active business ; just as a lazy fellow in this 
country, when he refuses to move, says, 
" Let me alone, I am very comfortable." 
But for true English roast-beef, or fire-side 
comfort, the Frenchman has no word; the 
thing is infinitely BEYOND his COMPRE- 


This Moth, Cossus signiperda, which belongs 
to the order Lepidoptera nocturga, measures 
about three and a half inches across the ex- 
panded fore-wings, which are of an ashy white 
color, streaked and barred with irregular black- 
ish lines ; particularly towards the hinder margin . 
The secondary wings are of a lighter color, and 
marked with a few streaks posteriorly. The 
nervures of the anterior wings are brown; the 
thorax brown; with a white mark above the 
head, and a black bar behind the middle. Abdo- 
men, ash color, and marked with dusky bars 
on each segment. The female lays her eggs in 
the chinks and bark of trees, sometimes as many 
as 1000 at a time. It is most probable that the 
greater portion of the young grubs, on emerging 

from the egg, are found and picked off by birds 
before they can penetrate into the tree, as they 
are never found in any great numbers; and if not 
by birds, they must be destroyed by some un- 
known and invisible agency, equally destruc- 
tive. _ ^Nature has here made a great and wise 
provision : for if such numbers were not annu- 
ally destroyed, they would increase to such an 
extent as to overrun and consume the greater 
part of the vegetable kingdom. In the day-time, 
the moth rests on the trunk of trees ; which in 
color it so much resembles, that a casual ob- 
server would not perceive it. The caterpillar, 
when full grown, measures about five inches in 
length, and is of a livid red color, with a few 
short hairs dispersed here and there over the 
body. Down the back, on each segment, there 
is a row of dark red patches. The head is black. 
The caterpillar of the goat-moth commits in- 
credible ravages on various trees, but more espe- 
cially on the elm and the willow, destroying them 
in an incredibly short space of time. " It does not 
consume the foliage of trees, like many other 
caterpillars, but derives its nutriment from the 
solid wood, which it readily comminutes by the 
action of its jaws. By means of these powerful 
organs, it mines its way through the stem of the 
most healthful tree, to the material injury of its 
vital functions ; and, by forming numerous gal- 
leries in all directions which admit air and 
moisture, it often occasions a rapid decay."* 
Yet, though the caterpillar is generally pretty 
abundant, the moth is not found in anything like 
proportionate numbers. After remaining in the 
larva state three years, it descends to the entrance 
hole, and forms its cocoon, which is very strong ; 
being composed of the chips it had gnawed off 
in its passage through the tree, intermingled 
with silk. The chrysalis is yellow, and has two 
points at the tail. In this state, it remains till cir- 
cumstances favor its exclusion from the cocoon. 
Though not common, this moth is pretty gene- 
rally distributed over England. It appears in 
June and July. C. M. 


Strawberry Forcing. 

When we consider the number of parts 
which compose the flower of a strawberry, 
and that the rudiment of each part is con- 
tained in the bud, even when it is so small 
as scarcely to be visible to the naked eye, 
we may infer that great caution is required 
to bring forth those minute objects in a per- 
fect state of development, by artificial means. 

When the bud of a strawberry flower has 
attained the size of a pin's head, let a cross 
section be examined through a lens or micro- 
scope. This section will be found to comprise 
a certain number of rings or circles ; these 
consist of, first, the calyx ; second, the co- 
rolla ; third, the male organs ; fourth, or 
centre point, the female organs. These must 

* Duncan's British Moths. 



be produced in a perfect state ; each organ 
must be capable of performing the office as- 
signed it by nature ; otherwise the act of 
fertilising, or " setting the fruit," cannot be 

Over excitement in any degree, whilst the 
flowers are in the bud-state, will derange 
their structure ; one part will grow into 
another, and the result will be abortive 
flowers, which will wither away soon after 
they expand ; being incapable of performing 
their functions, they are of no further use. — 
Gardeners' Chronicle. 


The Marionette Theatre. 

The public journals have been sounding 
the praises of this very harmless and very 
amusing introduction of the French paste- 
board puppets, far and near. We, too, feel 
justified in still further extending the fame 
of the exhibition. It is singularly clever in 
its conception ; and the manner of " working" 
the little dramatis personal, is deserving of 
the most honorable mention. 

To notice " Theatres," properly so called, 
is beyond our province, but this comes 
legitimately within our scope ; for as a work 
of art, and illustrative of " progress," it is 
unique. Not only do children raise shouts of 
laughter at the passive performers, so mar- 
vellously rendered " active," but older folk 
join right heartily in the chorus of merry 

In addition to the Manager's Room, Bom- 
bastes Furioso, and the grand ballet of action, 
Pauline (all admirably "got up"), there has 
been produced the laughable melodrama of 
the Bottle Imp. The acting of the puppets 
in this piece, as well as in the others, is 
really surprising ; and the little personages, 
from the way in which they go through their 
parts, almost cheat one into the belief that 
they are things of real life. The singing and 
dancing are in admirable keeping with the 
other portions of the entertainment, and the 
audience nightly depart in ecstacies. 

We know no place where two or three 
hours could be more pleasantly spent than 
in this little theatre. 


"'Tisalla matter of taste!"— The Gourmand's Note 

What a multitude of jokes have been 
passed, or " cracked," upon the unhappy 
reptile that recently swallowed a blanket, 
whole ! Punch will have it that the animal's 
sagacity knew it would keep him warm during 
the winter ! Another says it did not know 

a blanket from a rabbit ; this is the " popular 
belief." But a third comes forward, and 
says that serpents are chemical essayists ! 
This is a noble instinct ! The following 
appeared in a recent number of Chambers' 
Journal. If it be true, all we can say is : 
Chacund son gout!— u Some naturalists have 
surmised that serpents have no sense of taste, 
because the boa-constrictor in the Zoological 
Gardens swallowed his blanket. Chemistry 
may, however, assist us in solving the 
mystery, and induce us to draw quite 
an opposite conclusion from the curious 
circumstance alluded to. May not the 
' mistake ' of the serpent be attributed to 
the marvellous acuteness of his taste ? Take 
this reason : all vegetable substances con- 
tain starch, all animal substances contain 
ammonia : now it is most probable that the 
snake detected the animal quality — the am- 
monia — in the wool of the blanket, and he 
therefore naturally enough inferred that his 
bed was something suitable to his digestive 
organs. It is certain that he committed an 
error of judgment, but that error may be 
traceable to the subtlety of his taste rather 
than to its obtuseness. We throw out this 
suggestion as a specimen, if nothing better, 
of what contradictory inferences may be 
drawn from a single fact ; and as a hint of 
how much caution is necessary in arriving 
at absolute opinions, even when the evidence 
is apparently most unmistakeable-" 

We cannot help thinking that the boa 
wanted a " change of diet," and helped 
himself to the only " variety" that was 
at hand. We, too, throw this out as — a 
suggestion ! 


As we feel bound to record all " curious 
facts" in natural history, what can be more 
worthy of record than the following? — 

" On Thursday, the 22nd ult, a pike, not 
only remarkable for its more than ordinary 
dimensions, but also for the singular beauty of 
its variegated colors, was caught in the orna- 
mental water at Rep (or Knapp) Castle, near 
West Grinstead, county of Sussex, the seat of 
Sir C. Burrell, Bart. The dimensions of the 
fish were, extreme length 45 inches; girth 27|- 
inches, and weight upwards of 30lbs. This is 
considered most extraordinary, as, judging from 
the smallness of the head and appearance of 
the teeth, it is evidently not more than 2|- 
years old. It was forwarded to Grove's, Charing 
Cross, where it was exhibited to the public, and. 
attracted much attention." — Morning Advertiser. 

Considering the estimated age of this fish, 
we should say the purchaser of it would, if he 
carried it home himself, find it " full weight." 

Impose not a burden on others, which thou 
canst not bear thvself. 

■■WW ' mm ) i mtm u j ; 8 




There's a sound of " going" among the trees, 

The tread of departed summer; 
While on the hills, and across the seas, 

Rings the blast of a warlike comer; 
And the glad earth crouches, as though in fear, 
As his martial clarion draweth near. 

His ruthless hand on the flow'rs he'll lay, 

And bid them to their rest; 
At his icy touch they'll shrink away 

To hide in their mother's breast ; 
And sleep, as bound by a wizard's chain, 
Till Spring shall bid them forth again. 

His voice will stay the merry streams, 

As they leap and dance along; 
And the murmur of bees, in their mid-day dreams 

Shall cease, and the wild-bird's song; 
And the bounding gush of the waterfal 
Change to the roof of his crystal hall. 

And the mighty forest trees shall stand, 

With leafless arms and grey ; 
In aspect gaunt, like a warrior band, 

Despoil' d of its proud array; 
While in patience stern they wait to hear 
The first fresh note of Summer near. 

Yet we welcome the monarch, — with fond fare- 

To the queen of the woods and rills, 
While we pause to catch the lingering swell 

Of her music upon the hills ; 
Yet we welcome him, spite of the joy departed, 
As king of the glad and merry-hearted. 

But not to all comes the Winter's voice 

With a burden of joyful strain ; 
The merry heart may well rejoice 

That knows no want or pain: 
But how shall they his presence hail, 
To whom the means of life may fail? 

Where shall the homeless hide his head 

From the chill and bitter blast? 
Whence shall the starving crowd be fed, 

'Till want is overpast? 
Oh! pause, thou merry heart, and think; 
Nor from thy neighbor proudly shrink ! 



Our very zealous contemporary, the Family 
Herald, a "great authority" on such matters, 
thus gallops in with commendable and furious 
rage upon that green-eyed monster — jealousy. 
This arch-fiend, found in Man or Woman, ought 
we sav, to be " hung by the neck till it is dead ! 
dead ! ! dead ! ! ! The Editor of the Family Herald 
is replying to a correspondent bearing the eupho- 
nious designation of Lota. " Lota's grievance " 
says he, ''is the green-eyed monster, Jealousy. 
Her fiance carries it as far as it will go ; that is, 
he carries it up or down to jealousy of the oppo- 
site sex to his own. If he sees Lota even walk- 
ing with another lady, he is indignant; and when 

Lota reasons with him on the folly of such 
jealousy, he replies, If you loved me as I love 
you, you would not even smile on any one else ! If 
this be love, it deserves to be drummed out of 
human society. A man who will not smile on 
any human being but one, ought to be banished 
to a desert island. Such love is not only de- 
testable, but it is not to be depended on. It is a 
selfish fever : and, like a fever, it has its cold re- 
action. This reaction is sure to come, and love 
will then be translated into hatred. Such a 
lover is more likely to hate than to love his wife, 
twelvemonths after marriage; unless perhaps the 
youth is in delicate health, and nervously sus- 
ceptible through physical disease. Poor Lota 
says she is willing ' not to smile on any gentle- 
man ;' but she rebels at any further obedience to 
the tyrant's order. Even that is too much. She 
is in duty bound to obey God rather than man ; 
and what law of religion or morals ever forbade 
man or woman to treat one another with the smile 
of friendship ? No wonder ' engaged ' young people 
are so generally unsocial, and even disliked, when 
such a mortcloth of selfishness is wrapping up their 
hearts and their generous affections." — Well done, 
Mr. Editor! we trust our Brethren of the Broad- 
sheet will bear your sentiments over the whole 
surface of the globe. Then will the name of 
"Lota" be immortalised among generations 
yet to come. 


By E. V. Sankey. 

Oh! lady, fair lady, the night- winds are chill; 
And I and my baby scarce know where to 
rest : 
Eor our cottage stands far on the brow of the hill, 
And long since the day-star has sunk in the 
'Tis not for myself that I fear the rude blast, 
I would traverse the sea, were the waves 
dark and wild ; 
Alone, amid tempests, the mountains I've 
And now I but fear for the sake of mv 

Then lady, fair lady, ah ! seek not to blame, 

But grant us a shelter till morning shall rise; 
I ask and implore it, in pity's sweet name, 
And by all that you love, and my poor in- 
fant's cries. 
'Tis not for myself that I fear the rude blast, 
I would traverse the sea, were the waves 
dark and wild; 
Alone, amid tempests, the mountains I've 
And now I but fear for the sake of my 

London : Published bv George Berger, 19, Holywell 
Street, Strand (to whom all Letters and Communica- 
tions, Sealed and Addressedto" the Editor," and Books 
for Review, are to be forwarded) ; and Procurable, 
by order, of every Bookseller and Newsvendor in the 

London : Myers & Co., Printers, 22, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 


Conducted by WILLIAM KIBD, of Hammersmith,— 
Author of the Familiar and Popular Essays on "Natural History;" "British Song 
Birds;" "Birds of Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" 
" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c. 

"the OEJECT of our work is to make men WISER, without obliging them to turn over folios and 


No. 8.— 1852. 


Price l$d. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price Id. 


The Squirrel— No. 1. 

When we view the great mass of papers 
and letters with which our Turkey-carpet is 
strewn, and read their contents, we begin to 
get bewildered. Our brain reels ; our spirits 
flag ; and our task seems " never ending, still 
beginning." Yet cannot Ave behold those 
letters unmoved, nor peruse them without 
a feeling of gratification. They afford a 
most pleasing proof that our object has 
been appreciated, and that our idea is a 
" popular" one. 

In the first place, we have applications 
innumerable from young ladies " who keep 
pets," charging us immediately to commence 
a series of Articles upon pigeons, dogs, 
parrots, love-birds, monkeys {these we will 
never defile our London Journal by 
noticing), cats, dormice, guinea-pigs, rabbits, 
choice fowls, horses ; and above all, the 
various Song Birds that ornament jour 
English dwellings — together with the readiest 
means of training them. These, and many 
more "subjects" are urged upon us — lovingly, 
we must say ; and Ave will as lovingly treat 
of them all, in turn ; meantime, let each of 
our fair and anxious correspondents and 
their brothers, send us, Aveekly, short and 
nicely drawn-up "anecdotes" of each, in 
order that Ave may make them publicly use- 
ful. The interest already excited by our 
" Original Correspondence" can hardly be 
credited; and, as yet, it is a mere oayatelle! 

We have elseAvhere directed attention to 
the best means for extending our Journal, 
into all quarters Avhence literary aid may 
be looked for; and Ave shall rejoice in having 
the additional assistance of our merry, kind, 
and rosy-cheeked juvenile readers, who 
thirst to knoAV so much about " pets." Let 
us make a little bargain Avith them. " We Avill 
henceforth help one another." Shall it be 
so? It shall. Good! 

To-day, Ave purpose introducing to our 

readers' notice the English Squirrel; a 
much-esteemed correspondent having ex- 
pressed a Avish to know something about him. 

In our bachelor days, when hours of 
leisure Avere at our disposal, Ave used to 
" cultivate" squirrels, and take perhaps in- 
ordinate pleasure in their society. We 
may as well here state, that our natural dis- 
position is kindly ; that Ave can never sit 
alone, walk alone, eat alone. If at home, 
and the inmates absent, Ave are always 
to be found among our elegant little fancy 
fowls, who Avill jump into our hands to be 
caressed, and nestle under our chin. We 
name this, as we are sure there is an art in 
taming animals, as much as there is in tam- 
ing each other. That art is — affection : it is a 
never-failing talisman ; true, in all its opera- 
tions, as is the needle to the Pole. 

The first squirrel we ever possessed, we 
purchased of a man in the street. We think 
Ave were coaxed into giving a croAvn piece 
for it. The man evidently saAv that our 
heart Avas enlisted ; and although Ave tried 
hard for some time to beat him doAvn, the 
croAvn became his, the squirrel ours. 

We remember there Avas a shoAA'y piece of 
scarlet ribbon, flowing like a streamer from 
Skuggy's neck. It had been used as a gentle 
chain, to keep him prisoner. Being young, 
we soon made him familiar, and instructed 
him in a multitude of little tricks. Among 
our visitors Avere many avIio took delight in 
teasing this little rogue. We took upon 
ourselves the task of teaching him to resent 
this ; and so effectually, that few offenders 
escaped Avithout marks of his teeth being 
visible on their hands. He never acted on 
the offensive, although very Avary of Avhat 
was preparing for him ; but, on the first 
offence offered, he invariably gave "value 

Yet, Avith us Avas he on the most affec- 
tionate terms. Do Avhat Ave Avould, tease 
him as we might, he invariably returned 
good for evil. He would come out of his 
cage to breakfast with us regularly every 

Vol. I.— New Series. 



morning, and never did guest make himself 
more welcome, nor help himself more at his 
ease. Sugar, milk, bread and butter, egg, 
marmalade, and that infinite variety of 
"spread," in which a bachelor so much de- 
lights, were ours — were his. He ate till he 
could eat no longer ; then would he come to 
us to be cuddled, and suddenly running up 
our shoulder, he would put his paws, one on 
each side of our face, and lick our chin all 
over with his rough tongue. 

Such mimic scenes as these were the joy 
of our young heart, and never did Master 
feel himself less alone than when so sur- 
rounded. We had a large house, and that 
bachelor's curse, a dishonest housekeeper 
(who had the art. of turning brandy into 
toast-and-water, and gin into aqua pura) — 
and our pet squirrel ; other " pets" were 
afterwards added, of which, more by-and-by: 
but none of them caused our little friend to 
be laid on one side. How well he knew our 
step ! How eager he was to take his seat 
at the table, whenever we sat down ! We 
repeat, all this was the result of mutual 
affection. We pass over a multitude of 
endearing good qualities in this prince of 
squirrels, to speak of his mischievous pro- 

One morning, on quitting our dressing- 
room, and going into the drawing-room, we 
found the carpet apparently covered with 
snow. It was the comminuted remains of 
two copies of the Times Newspaper, which 
Skuggy had reduced into the minutest "vul- 
gar fractions." Glancing at the mantle-piece, 
we missed several ornaments ; on looking 
down, we found " their remains" in the fire- 
place. Several boys were there without 
heads ; one lady, an orange merchant, with 
her arm broken ; and a china elephant had 
lost his trunk. Various other disasters met 
our eye. 

Glancing round for the culprit, we could 
find him, as Jullien says, " No-where at 
all." At last we spied him, seated aloft, 
at the extreme end of the silk window- 
curtains, " looking volumes." He knew well 
he had done wrong, and that he would be 
punished for it. He did not descend till he 
was half famished ; and his contrition being 
then manifest, we lectured him, kissed him, 
tickled him — and finally tucked him up as 
usual, in his snug linen bed. We verily 
believe he would have broken his little heart, 
had we not done so. 

We shall return to the squirrel, anon. 

Success. — The surest hindrance to success is 
to have too high a standard of refinement in our 
own minds, or too high an opinion of the judg- 
ment of the public. He who is determined not to 
be satisfied with anything shorfc of perfection, 
will never do anything at all, either to please 
himself or others Hazlitt. 


The Country House, No. 3. The Ox and the 
Dairy. 12mo. 

We have already dwelt, at some length, 
on the two former sections of this popular 

This is an equally good, and an equally 
interesting description of another branch of 
the same general subject. As a treatise on 
the merit of the Ox, and the best breeds, it 
is, as a work of reference, indispensably 
useful. The wood-cuts are numerous and 
very spirited. 

From the portion of the work which is 
assigned to " the dairy," we select a short 
passage or two on that delicious luxury in 
which we have all often revelled, clouted 
cream. Would it were even now near 
" tea-time," and a sensible " cream-jug," that 
would hold about a quart, were on th eatable 
filled! How soon would it be emptied ! 

Devonshire is celebrated for a delicacy pre- 
pared from the milk, well known as clouted 
cream. In order to obtain this, the milk is suf- 
fered to stand in a vessel for twenty-four hours ; 
it is then placed over a stove, or slow fire, and 
very gradually heated to an almost simmering 
state, below the boiling point. When this is 
accomplished (the first bubble having appeared), 
the milk is removed from the fire, and allowed 
to stand for twenty-four hours more. At the 
end of this time, the cream will have arisen to 
the surface, in a thick or clouted state, and is 
removed. In this state it is eaten as a luxury 
[it is indeed !] ; but it is often converted into 
butter, which is done by stirring it briskly with 
the hand or a stick. 

It ought to be a crime, punishable by the 
judges, ever to allow such cream as this to 
be made into butter ! Send it all up here, 
good folk ; for it is well known that there is 
no GOOD cream to be had in London. How 
should there be ? Any one can answer the 
question who looks at the London animals, 
who are falsely and facetiously said to "give 
milk!" " Milk !" quotha ; drenched grains, 
colored with chalk and water ! The cream, 
say the statistics of London, is "manufac- 
tured from sheeps' brains, whipped into a 
froth, and delivered to order." We believe 
it ; so that if anything of the kind should 
come before us, when we are " asked out to 
tea," we shall assuredly say, — Whence comes 

On the Advantages of the Study of Natural 
History. A Lecture delivered at the City 
of Westminster Literary Institution. By 
Edwards Crisp, M.D. 8vo. 

This is a very sensible Lecture on an all- 
engrossing and truly interesting subject ; and 
we recommend a universal perusal of it. 
We have ourselves gone over much of the 
same ground in the columns of the Garden- 



ers* Chronicle; but the following Extracts 
will come with much freshness. We trust 
our young friends, in pcirticular, will closely 
mark the providential provision made for 
animals to escape their natural enemies. 
This is shown by their colors assimilating 
with the haunts they frequent : — 

The color of animals always answers some 
wise purpose. The ebony skin of the African 
is well adapted to protect him from the effects 
of a tropical sun. I met with a good illustra- 
tion of this a short time since : I was walking in 
the fields with a farmer in Essex, and I observed 
to him that all his pigs were black; he told me 
that he preferred this color, as " they did better 
in the fields, the skin of the white pigs being 
liable to crack in hot weather." On inquiry, 
I find the correctness of this opinion confirmed 
by others. 

Concealment appears to be another object; 
the animal often being screened from its enemies 
by its color corresponding with the surrounding 
surface ; thus in the north of Europe, where the 
ground is so often covered with snow, many 
animals are white, which here are dark: the 
grouse, partridge, hare, and fox, may be men- 
tioned as examples; the ermine, in this country, 
which is a reddish brown in summer, becomes 
white in winter, as does also the male of the 
snow-bunting. The young of these birds, the 
gulls (which are white) are of a lightish ash 
color, dotted with black, so that it is almost im- 
possible to distinguish them from the shingle on 
which they sit. Again, the eggs of all ground 
birds are of a dark color, whilst many of those 
whose nests are more elevated, are white. The 
only ground-birds' eggs which approach the 
nearest to this color (that I know of) are the eggs 
of the duck, pheasant, and partridge; but the 
duck and the English partridge cover their eggs 
so that they cannot be seen. The pheasant does so 
occasionally, and the French partridge (the eggs 
of which are much darker) never, or very rarely. 
It is probable that the color of the eggs of the 
common hen has been changed by domestication. 

How admirably also the color serves to enable 
some animals to take their prey; how like is 
the lion's skin to the sandy desert — the stripes 
of the tiger to the long grass in which he is 
concealed — the spots of the leopard and tiger- 
cat to the trees they frequent — the lizard to 
the green foliage, or sandy bank. This alligator, 
how perfect is the resemblance of his hide to the 
slimy mud ! How great, often, is the correspond- 
ence between the color of another class of rep- 
tiles, the ophidians, and the ground on which 
they move ! A friend of mine saw this serpent 
( trigonocephaly) in Trinidad, lying across his 
path, and as you may readily suppose, from 
its color, took it for the dead branch of a tree, 
until its motion arrested his footsteps. Its poison 
is most deadly. 

The coverings of animals, again, are wonder- 
fully adapted to the climates and elements which 
they inhabit: thus we have a warm thick fur in 
the northern regions; a thin hairy coat in the 
tropics — in the air the light and beautiful feather 
— in the water the crust or scale. What 
armourer could make a coat of mail to equal that 

in which this armadillo is enveloped ? How well 
it protects him from the weapons of his assail- 
ants, and from the falling trees and branches in 
his path ! 

Many of the inferior animals not only possess 
the five senses, but some of them are more 
perfect than in man ; more especially the sense 
of smell: the dog can scent his master in a crowd 
of a thousand persons. Those long-snouted 
animals, the pig, ant-eater, mole, coatimondi, 
badger, as well as the long-billed birds, have 
both the senses of smell and touch to a high 
degree, to enable them to obtain their food in 
the dry or wet earth. But the sense of smell is 
probably more exquisite in birds than in other 
animals. I have several times visited a decoy 
for taking wild fowl, and those who enter are 
compelled to carry burning turf near their 
mouths, in order that the birds may not detect 
their approach, and take flight. I once, after a 
day's hare-shooting, took some retrievers to look 
for the wounded game that had escaped, and 
afterwards died. The carrion -crows, however, 
that had found the dead hares, were the best 
guides : these birds had not been observed in the 
neighborhood for some time before. It has long 
been a disputed point, as to whether the carrion 
birds find their food by scent or by sight; but I 
think Waterton's experiment is conclusive; he 
placed the carcass of a pig (in the night) in a 
ditch, and so covered it with bushes, that it 
could not be seen; early in the morning, there 
were plenty of vultures near the spot, although 
before this they were not visible. "VVaterton 
afterwards stuffed the dried skin of a deer, and 
exposed it in the middle of a field, but not a 
vulture came near it. 

We also direct attention to the lecturer's 
remarks on the Economy of Insects, and 
the sagacity of the Dog— all very pleasing, 
and all very instructive. 


With a very near approach to truth, the 
human family inhabiting the earth has been 
estimated at 700,000,000 ; the annual loss by 
death is 18,000,000. Now, the weight of the 
animal matter of this immense body cast 
into the grave is no less than 624,400 
tons ; and by its decomposition produces 
9,000,000,000",000 cubic feet of gaseous mat- 
ter. The vegetable productions of the earth 
clear away from the atmosphere the gases 
thus generated, decomposing and assimilat- 
ing them for their oavu increase. 

This cycle of changes has been going on 
ever since man became an occupier of the 
earth. He feeds on the lower animals and 
on the seeds of plants, which in due time, 
become a part of himself. The lower ani- 
mals feed upon the herbs and grasses, which, 
in their turn, become the animal ; then, by 
its death, again pass into the atmosphere, 
and are ready once more to be assimilated 
by plants, the earthy or bony substance 



alone remaining where it is deposited ; and 
not even these, unless sufficiently deep in 
the soil, to be out of the absorbent reach of 
the roots of plants and trees. 

Nothing appears so cannibalising as to see 
a flock of sheep grazing in a country church- 
yard, knowing it to be an undeniable fact that 
the grass they eat has been nurtured by the 
gaseous emanations from my immediate pre- 
decessors ; then following up the fact that 
this said grass is actually assimilated by the 
animal, and becomes mutton, whereof we 
may, perhaps, dine next week. " Truth is 
stranger than fiction !" and here is a truth 
that exemplifies the proverb. 

It is not at all difficult to prove that the ele- 
ments, of which the living bodies of the pre- 
sent generation are composed, have passed 
through millions of mutations, and formed 
parts of all kinds of animal and vegetable 
bodies, in accordance with the unerring hvw 
of nature ; and consequently we may say 
with truth that fractions of the elements of 
our ancestors form portions of ourselves. 
Some of the particles of Cicero's or iEsop's 
body, peradventure, wield his pen. Thus 
saith the chemist ; now listen to the words of 
the poet : — " To what base uses may we re- 
turn, Horatio !" Why may not imagination 
trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he 
find it stopping a bung-hole? To follow 
him thither with modesty enough, and like- 
lihood to lead it : as thus : — Alexander died, 
Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth 
into dust ; the dust is earth ; of earth we 
make loam ; and why of that loam, whereto 
he was converted, might they not stop a beer 
barrel ? 

" Imperial Csesar, dead, and turn'd to clay, 
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away ; 
Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, 
Should patch a wail to expel the winter's flaw !" 

Hamlet, Act. v. s. 1. 

Notes " on the Minds of Animals. 

The following observations have reference to 
animals, inferior to man; and exhibit their ap- 
parent knowledge of the sciences and arts; also, 
their professions, occupations, and employ- 
ments: — 

Bees are geometricians — their cells are so con- 
structed as, with the least quantity of material, 
to have the largest-sized spaces and least possible 
less of interstice. 

So, also, is the Ant Lion — his funnel-shaped 
trap is exactly correct in its conformation as if it 
had been made by the most skilful artist of 
our species, with the aid of the best instru- 

The Mole is a meteorologist. 

The bird called the Nine Killer is an arith- 
metician ; so also is the Crow, the Wild Tur- 
key, and some other birds. 

The Torpedo, the Ray, and the Electric 
Eel, are electricians. 

The Nautilus is a navigator — he raises and 
lowers his sail, casts and weighs anchor, and per- 
forms other nautical evolutions. 

"Whole tribes of birds are musicians. 

The Beaver is an architect, builder, and 
woodcutter — he cuts down trees, and erects 
houses and dams. 

The Marmot is a civil engineer — he not only 
builds houses, but constructs aqueducts and 
drains to keep them dry. 

The White Ants maintain a regular army of 

The East India Ants are horticulturists — 
they make mushrooms, upon which they feed 
their young. 

Wasps are paper manufacturers. 

Caterpillars are silk spinners. 

The bird Ploceus Textor is a weaver — he 
weaves a web to make his nest. 

The Primia is a tailor— he sews the leaves 
together to make his nest. 

The Squirrel is a ferryman — with a chip or 
piece of bark for a boat, and his tail for a sail, he 
crosses a stream. 

Dogs, Wolves, Jackals, and many others, 
are hunters. 

The Black Bear and Heron are fishermen. 

The Ants have regular day laborers. 

The Monkey is a rope dancer. 

The associations of Beavers present us with 
a model of republicanism. 

The Bees live under a monarchy. 

The Indian Antelopes furnish an example 
of a patriarchal government. 

Elephants exhibit an aristocracy of elders. 

Wild Horses are said to elect their leaders. 

Sheep, in a wild state, are under the control 
of a military chief ram. 


Now that this " lovely bird with russet 
coat" is exciting so much attention in our 
pages, we will keep up the interest by a suc- 
cession of Anecdotes, throwing up his cha- 
racter in " full relief." The following was 
an amateur contribution to the Gardeners' 
Chronicle, May 25, 1844. The paper con- 
taining it, has long since been out of print, 
and the anecdote not obtainable in a printed 
form : — ■ 

Sir, — In a late Number appeared a very 
interesting anecdote of an " affectionate " 
robin. Your correspondent has, however, 
I would presume, seen little beyond the 
" sunny side" of this bird's character. I 
grant the robin has some very striking, good 
qualities ; but " more remains behind." 

I have made the study of birds a very fa- 
vorite pastime for the last fourteen years, my 
collection seldom averaging fewer than from 
200 to 300 of nearly all kinds, including 
nightingales, black-caps, babillards, &c. &c. ; 
and I have had as many as seventeen robins in 
cages at one and the same time. My 
observation, during the above period, com- 

pels me to say that, if of these " affectionate" 
birds,twenty males were let loose in one room, 
not three would be found alive the next 
morning; and even these survivors would 
be desperately wounded. Their strength 
alone has saved them (unless indeed they 
have studied the " whole art of Avar") ; and 
opportunity alone is wanting for each one of 
them to receive from the other his quietus, 
which is inevitable, if they continue together. 

If robins, confined in cages, are expected 
to sing, they must on no account whatever 
be permitted to see each other, for their 
jealousy exceeds, if it be possible, that of 
Woman ; and once provoked, they are nearly 
as irreconcileable. Thus much for their foi- 
bles. I will now give you an instance of 
their gentler nature. You will thereby see, 
not only how possible it is to tame a robin, 
but to mould it to your entire will. 

In the autumn of last year, I took posses- 
sion of my present residence; and being alone 
for a week until the arrival of my family 
from town, I rose as early as half-past four 
in the morning, to attend to my cage-birds, 
which I fed on a table in the back garden. 
While employed in this operation, I per- 
ceived that I was closely watched by a very 
elegantly-formed, fine, stout robin, who 
seemed bent on ascertaining whether or not 
I was a friend to his tribe. Within three 
days, his mind, on this point, was set at rest, 
and he became my constant guest — in doors, 
in the garden, on my shoulder, on my finger ; 
and to sum up all, I taught him, at command, 
to perch himself firmly on the bridge of my 
nose, and to take a meal-worm, while thus 
seated, from my hand. It would often 
happen, on my return home, that he was in 
"Ravenscourt Park (which adjoins my 
garden). At such times, I had only to give a 
peculiar whistle, and he would be at my^side 
in a few moments. 

Finally, our " engagement for the season" 
terminated only two months since, when my 
little friend committed matrimony. He is 
now teaching his young family, four in 
number, how to fly, and is in the garden the 
greater part of the day, singing joyously. 
His great familiarity, however, is suspended 
pro tern., and I can scarcely expect that his 
instinct will permit him to return to his old 
habits of strict intimacy until August — Wil- 
liam Kidd, New-road, Hammersmith. 

Other anecdotes, referring to this " choice 
spirit," and certain members of his family, 
shall appear in due course. The Natural 
History of the Eobin, is truly interesting. 
He seems to be a universal favorite, and 
welcome at all tables. 


• Zeal and Judgment. — Zealous men are ever 
displaying to you the strength of their belief while 
judicious men are showing you the grounds of it. 

A frost in London ! What a miscellany 
of absurd mischances — what lavish materials 
for laughter and description are comprised 
in these words ! Every quarter of London 
abounds in food for cachinnation. Let us 
extract a few " Random Records." In the 
more fashionable streets, where the quick, 
bustling step of business is little, if at all 
known, the pavement on either side (for we are 
supposing a strenuous frost, ushered in by its 
usual herald, a snow storm) is one mass of 
dark, glossy ice, which the trim dandy eyes 
with ludicrous misgiving, as if but to look 
were to tumble. Should he wear stays, his 
trepidation deepens into paralysis. Hard 
by the squares, close underneath whose rails 
a mass of drifted snow lies crouched, some 
five or six urchins are busy manufacturing 
snowballs, one of which, destined for the 
sconce of a fellow idler, wears away on the 
wrong tack, and drives bump ashore against 
the midriff of a fat man in spectacles. 

On the Serpentine, a prepossessing young 
skater, whose first year of shaving will not 
expire till March, inspired by the manifest 
admiration of a group of lovely girls, re- 
solves, for once, to out-do himself, but, alas ! 
in rounding the loop of the figure of three, 
he loses his equilibrium, changes abruptly 
from the perpendicular to the horizontal, 
and cuts one figure more than he had anti- 
cipated. Close beside him stands a deter- 
mined wag, who, overpowered by his sense 
of the ridiculous, misses his footing, and 
plunges into an adjacent hole, and finishes 
his laugh three feet beneath the ice. It is 
to be hoped that he will be drowned, as the 
interest of his situation will be materially 
improved thereby. 

In Sloane Street, which the " nipping 
blasts" scour from one end to the other, like 
Cossacks on a foraging party, No. 179, in 
venturing forth to visit No. 98, meets with 
No. 82, First Floor Furnished, with a thin 
blueish tinge at the tip of her nose. Neither 
ladies have been conscious of the existence 
of hands or feet for the last ten minutes. 
Their tongues, however, it is gratifying to 
add, are still in high condition. Throughout 
the East-end, every third plebeian's digits 
are deep " emboAvelled" in his pockets : the 
Houndsditch Israelites, with their stiff frozen 
beards, look like itinerant statues of JEscu- 
lapius ; and the driver of the " Hansom " cab, 
which stands next the airy regions of Fins- 
bury Square, is a petrefaction from the waist 

At Bishopsgate Within, Miss A , the 

Venus of the ward, who has been asked 
thrice in church, cannot become one flesh 

with Mr. B , the Apollo of Farringdon 

Without, till the huge chilblain, on the 



fourth finger of the left hand, has become 
sufficiently thawed to permit the passage of 
the wedding-ring. Her opinion of the frost 
is, in consequence, far from disinterested. 
At the Horse Guards, the two mounted sen- 
tries look ossified and hopeless ; for an inde- 
fatigable north-east wind is momentarily- 
assimilating their condition to that of Lot's 
wife. In turning up from Guildford Street 
into Russell Square, an intelligent, serious, 
looking gentleman comes into hasty and un- 
expected collision with another, equally in- 
telligent, at the edge of a long slide. The 
consequences are obvious. Both plunge to 
earth, and (wonderful to relate) the same 
oath, given in a bold bravura style, mel- 
lowed by a slight touch of the plaintive — 
like the Jeremiads of the poor gardeners — 
burst, at the same moment, from the lips of 
both. On comparing damages, one gentleman 
finds that he has split his new black shorts ; 
the other, that he has staved in the crown of 
his best hat. 

In driving up Constitution Hill, where 
Boreas is proverbially frolicsome, my Lady 
B.'s J ehu becomes suddenly unconscious of a 
nose, but finding that the footman behind is 
in the same predicament, he resigns himself, 
with a grim smile of satisfaction, to his fate. 
While quitting a linen-draper's in Hanway 
Yard, whither he has been accompanying two 
young ladies a-shopping, a smart youth, in 
a gay blue mantle, comes down, just outside 
the door, on that particular portion of his 
person which naturalists have defined as the 
" seat of honor." On jumping up, agreeably 
savage, he discovers the shopman in convul- 
sions, and his fair friends in hysterics, 
though he himself cannot see the joke. It 
is surprising how insensible some people are 
to humor ! Should the wind be high, and 
the snow exuberant, umbrellas make a point 
of turning inside out ; bonnets, like pigs on 
a trip to Smithfield, take every direction but 
the right ; hats evince a disposition to see 
the world, and ladies' dresses mount upwards 
in the scale of things. 

So much for externals : within doors the 
student sits " contractus legem" — as Horace 
says — by his fire-side ; and sensitive young 
ladies, who have been for some time striving 
to summon up courage to go a-shopping, 
move to the window, cast a glance at the 
snow on the pavement, shudder gracefully, 
and creep closer to their " ingle nook." In 
a warm cushioned arm-chair, with spectacles 
on his nose, the " Miseries of Human Life " 
in his hands, and " Rejected Addresses " 
lying on the table beside him, sits the old 
bachelor, condemning the unoffending eyes 
of the frost, and its stern rheumatic con- 

How different is the state of the married 
man ! He — happy fellow ! — as evening draws 
on, sits surrounded by his children, the two 

youngest of whom, in consideration of the 
severity of the weather, and the social in- 
fluence of Christmas, are permitted to nestle 
close beside him, where they amuse them- 
selves by making pincushions of his calf, 
pouring Fort wine into his pockets, and 
stuffing his snuff-box with apple-pips. See 
what it is to be a parent ! 

But it is at night that the father is most 
in his element. Then, while the ther- 
mometer is below zero, and the water is 
frozen in his basin, he is roused from dreams 
of happiness by the clamor of his daughter, 
Anna Maria, who sleeps in the cribb beside 
him, and whose hooping-cough, like Rachel 
mourning for her children, " refuseth to be 

Up jumps the worthy gentleman, lights 
the tinder-box, finds Anna Maria black in 
the face, runs off for the doctor, leaps the 
first gutter, tumbles, breaks his nose against 
the second, and is hauled off to the watch- 
house as a drunkard ! 

Such are a few among the numerous 
absurd concomitants of a Feost in London ! 


Phrenology for the Million. 

To the Editor, — Sir, — I have for many 
years past been a reader, a very careful 
reader, of your multitudinous writings ; and 
I have narrowly watched the tenor of your 
observations. No man can write much, or 
long, without in some degree laying bare 
the inmost thoughts of his soul; and his 
bias must have some direct tendency to good 
or evil. This cannot be concealed from a 
reader who feels eager to fathom a writer's 
notions on right or wrong. I flatter my- 
self, I am this eager reader ; I also flatter 
myself that I can read YOU. Presuming on 
this, and hoping I am correct, let me cor- 
dially extend to you the right hand of fel- 
lowship. I herald the advent of Kidd's 
Journal amongst us, as one of our many 
national blessings ; for the hand that holds 
the pen, and the pen that gives utterance to 
its master's thoughts, in the said Journal, 
are well worthy the one of the other. But 
now for the object of this note. 

Without in any way attempting to complain 
of the"*contents, or the arrangement of your 
Journal, which are both admirable — I want 
you to confer an additional benefit on 
society, a benefit which shall at once im- 
mortalise your Paper ; and that, without in 
any way interfering with its general matter. 
You have already paved the way for its in- 
troduction by remarks, made in your very 
First Number, as to rendering science " popu- 
lar " for the masses. 

In some hands, the topic I wish introduced 



would injure, rather than benefit, a good 
cause; and it is because I know you to be a 
Christian man, that I wish to see it well and 
properly handled by you. The subject I 
allude to is Phrenology — as beautiful a 
science as it ever fell to the lot of man to 
investigate, and a science to which mankind 
generally are daily becoming necessary con- 

You no doubt are well acquainted with 
the noble work of Gall, — which, being only 
obtainable in this country in an unknown 
tongue, sleeps heavily on the shelves of the 
foreign publishers, unasked for, uncared for. 
And yet — in that very casket, lie jewels of 
immense, of incalculable value to the million! 
Food for thought is hidden there, which be 
it the happy lot of Kidd's Journal to bring 
to light. 

In a pecuniary point of view, of course 
you will be largely benefited ; for every- 
body will read this book, if you translate 
and re-print it ; but your reward will extend 
far, very far, beyond this. As a public bene- 
factor, you will receive the homage of the 
whole civilised and enlightened world. 

I have, ere now, gathered from your writ- 
ings, that both physiognomy and phrenology 
are favorite studies of yours ; you have, 
indeed, repeatedly said as much. Let me 
suggest that, every week, you give us one 
page from Gall's intellectual work, with 
occasional notes and comments. I feel cer- 
tain, it would add greatly to your already 
well-earned fame as a naturalist and a lover of 
nature ; whilst it would carry your Journal 
into every corner of our " happy land." 
Yours, with esteem, 


[This Appeal to us, is deserving of at- 
tention. We freely confess our great ad- 
miration of the science of Phrenology; when 
kept within due limits ; and we admit that 
the principles of it ought to be widely dis- 
seminated. " We will sleep on it " one 
week; and if we "act," it shall be promptly 
and energetically. The " masses " are alive 
to the truth of the science, and they want to 
know more of it. Will "Amicus" kindly 
send us his name ? It shall be kept in the 
most strict confidence. Or, will he kindly 
grant us a personal interview ? We should 
greatly prefer the latter.] 


To the .Editor. 

Sir, — -Allow me, as one of very many, perhaps 
hundreds, of your readers, to corroborate what 
was said last week by A Lover of Natural 
History touching your " title," and the diffi- 
culty of obtaining your Paper. 

The former really is a " mistake" on your 
part; for we invariably find the penny picture- 
book substituted, when we ask for " Kidd's 

London - Journal." You are hardly incorrect 
in saying, that " half the dealers in Periodicals 
cannot read."' I believe it. At all events they 
cannot be brought to comprehend, why a Paper, 
issued at one penny, should not be infinitely pre- 
ferable to one of a similar title at three half- 
pence ! 

I have carefully perused what you have said 
about these folk, in your opening article in 
No. 5; and can more than understand the " dif- 
ficulties" you had to encounter in getting your 
" Journal" into the London shops at all. Why, 
Sir, you may now wander daily, all over London, 
and scarcely meet with a single copy for sale 
after Wednesday (the day of publication !). This 
is monstrously unjust to you, and foolish as re- 
gards the vendor. His answer is, — " We do 
not keep more than are previously ordered." 

Your friends, therefore, must besiege these 
gentlemen dealers, and give them no rest, night 
nor day. I could not have dreamt that so much 
unfair difficulty could have beset a new peri- 
odical, — especially one so universally called for 
as yours is. The dealers admit this; but they 
say in justification, that they have lost largely by 
keeping new periodical works, Avhich have from 
time to time been " dropped," and the stock on 
hand rendered valueless. This is " a" reason, 

Again I say, let all your friends, — I do it, 
daily, — call on every Newsvendor and Bookseller 
in their way, to and fro; and bother their 
lives out eor " Kidd's Journal," — letting the 
word " London" lapse for the nonce. A few 
pence weekly, cannot ruin your friends ; but the 
trifling outlay may materially facilitate the 
success of your Paper, and give it all it wants — 
notoriety. It is, as you have rightly christened 
it (I see by the papers), " the ' Pet' of the 
Periodicals," and shines brighter than any of its 
Competitors in the literary firmament of " fixed 
stars." Yours, &c. 

An Earnest Well- Wisher. 
[This is one of many other kind Letters 
we have received of a similar import. We 
need add nothing to it. Its sincerity is ap- 
parent ; its argument excellent ; its object, 
undeniably good ; its desert, our best thanks 
— -which are gratefully tendered. Others 
can say more for us, or word their expres- 
sions better, than we could for ourselves. 
It is quite true that the " Trade," collec- 
tively, are doing us a very serious injury, 
notwithstanding our liberal overtures to 

The Crocus. — The crocus is interesting both 
for its medical uses and historic associations. 
Hippocrates, the father of physic, enumerates the 
krokos (crocus sativus) or meadow saffron, in his 
list of narcotic remedies, and highly praises it as 
a medicine for complaints of the eye, prescribing 
its use outwardly in different ointments. The 
plant has lost none of its importance since the 
time of Hippocrates. Bulbous roots of all kinds 
were much esteemed by the epicures of ancient 
Rome, and the vernal crocus was dished up in 
various ways as a delicacy for the stomach of 
antiquity. — " Familiar Things." 




"W*. B.— Fie ! Use your own good sense in the matter. 
How is it possible that "the Fly" could be produced 
in the manner you imagine 1 Nature knows no such 
means of reproduction. 

"A Reader." — "We will tell you all about your Parrot 
next week. 

\V. L. J., and the Inct'batok. — A Letter awaits you, at 
the Post Office, Collington. 

R. E.— Our space is so circumscribed, that "Fugitive 
Poetry" can only be admissible under very peculiar 
circumstances. We are already overwhelmed with 
similar "kind offerings." This "reply" will suffice 
for all the writers. Their favors have merit, and 
would be readily available in a Monthly Magazine. 

New Subscribers, and Casual Readers, are referred to 
the Leading Article in our First Number for the 
detailed objects of the London Journal : to these 
Ave shall rigidly adhere. 

Private Letters. — Of these Ave daily recei\ r e such 
immense quantities, that we must ' really beg the 
Avriters to excuse our not replying to them. Our time 
is more profitably occupied. All A'acancies, as they are 
called, are filled up. Let this general answer suffice. 

Correspondents sending in any " facts" connected with 
Science or Natural History, are requested in every 
case to append their names and. places of abode. In no 
instance, however, will their names be published with- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others. — It haA'ing been 
deemed expedient, to meet the views of Vie Trade, that 
this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
tion, Contributors and others Avill be so kind as to 
bear in mind that they must give us an extra " week's 
grace," and wait patiently till their favors appear. 

All persons Avho may send in MSS., but which may not 
be " accepted," are requested to preserve copies of 
them, as the Editor cannot hold himself responsible 
for their return. 

To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
need only order it to be sent to them by any of their 
local Booksellers or , NeAVSvendors. It is published 
simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 

Saturday, February 21, 1852. 

We this bay publish our Eighth Num- 
ber ; and with it, our Second Part. 
This affords us the opportunity we covet, 
of addressing ourselves, once a-month, to 
our distant friends, with whom we can chat 
in this particular channel only " thirteen 
times a-year." 

We do not ask them to tell us how they 
like our company? We have it under their 
sign manual, that they are not only admiring 
readers, but staunch friends of ours ; willing 
and waiting to do anything and everything 
that can aid us in our enterprise. It is our 
invariable object, as much as in us lies, to 
make each one of our readers a " friend." 
We then sit down and write comfortably ; 
our very pen knowing, from the facility with 
which it traverses the paper, how happy 
and cheerful is the hand that holds it. Never, 
surely, had any public journalist more 
reason than we have, for feeling proud at the 
position in which we are placed. 

As we have invariably found it to be the 
best way, when requiring a favor to be 
granted, to ask it boldly and unreservedly, 
— we at once tell our friends how they can 

help us in a matter of some consequence to 
us, as well as of much interest to the 

The demand for our Journal is large, 
and very rapidly increasing — not in one 
place only, but everywhere. Yet can it not 
be obtained ivlien wanted ! Some may smile 
incredulously at this ; and, were we not the 
Proprietor of this paper, perhaps we might 
smile also. But we are the Proprietor, 
consequently we cannot " afford," in the 
present instance, to join in the laugh. 

In all towns, villages, and places where 
periodicals are sold, the booksellers and 
dealers will not, it appears, order one more 
copy of our paper than is bond fide disposed 
of before it arrives! Thus, if Mr. Wishful, 
Mr. Merriside, Mr. Nuthatch, Mrs. Green- 
finch, and Miss Skylark, each order one, 
there are five copies only written for to 
London. But, should any of the friends and 
acquaintance of the above feel pleased with 
the paper (as daily they do), and set out 
into the town to procure it — their labor 
would be vain, their disappointment great, 
our loss (collectively) very considerable. 
We state a case that occurs many times in 
every twenty-four hours, and from one end 
of England to the other. The same in Dub- 
lin ; the same in Edinburgh ; and so on, ad 

Now, herein can our friends aid us 
bravely. Let us imagine that each town of 
any note contains only owe respectable book- 
seller. Assuming that he can " read," and, 
by a still greater stretch of imagination, 
that he can " reason," — surely, if any one of 
our kind friends were to call upon him, and 
explain the nature of our paper to him, 
showing how peculiarly adapted it is for ge- 
neral introduction amongst families (wherein 
Natural History is in most instances a 
" study") — surely, we say, this might induce 
him to speculate on one single Part of our 
Journal? The two Parts would not cost 
him, carriage included, one shilling; and 
how " heavy" such a risk ! 

Once more. Every bookseller has a con- 
nection ; and in country towns and villages 
a degree of familiarity naturally exists be- 
tween the bookseller and his customers, 
which would warrant a little explanation, 
and recommendations of the kind we hint 
at. With what happy results would these be 
attended ! Let only the " disposition" to 
serve us be shown, and the " issue" is known 
beforehand. Here, at all events, "where 
there is a will there is a way." 

We only wish we were so placed, and 
had a friend to serve! But, alas! all people's 
heads are not " screwed on the same way;" 
and for Philanthropy, we must search alone 
in Johnson's Dictionary. We are shocked, 
positively shocked, to be obliged to record 
such a thing in the nineteenth century. 



We have now spoken our mind, as is our 
wont, fairly and fearlessly, and trust our 
remarks will be perused by the major part 
of those to whom they are addressed. Our 
file — aye, files — groan with letters from the 
nobility and gentry, lamenting the existence 
of what we ourselves now dot down. Many 
of these noble hearts, with much genuine 
liberality, have our Journal sent down to 
their mansions by post ; preferring to pay 
the extra cost rather than experience delay, 
or be disappointed in the regular receipt of 
their paper. 

We ask — Is this right? We ask it 
the more emphatically, as our allowance 
to the Booksellers and Dealers ex- 
ceeds that of ANY OTHER HOUSE IN 

We continue to receive a number of 
Letters and Contributions, to which are at- 
tached initials only, or fictitious signatures. 
This is all quite proper as regards what has 
to appear before the public ; but an addi- 
tional favor will be conferred on us, if the 
writers will be so good as to honor us, in 
confidence, with their names and addresses 
in full. As we have elsewhere said, we 
wish to be on a " friendly" footing with all 
our regular readers, and to know where to 
apply to them. 

In consequence of the earnestly-expressed 
wishes of our Readers, we have entered into 
a negociation with the Proprietors of the 
Gardeners' Chronicle Newspaper, for the 
purchase of their entire interest in the popular 
Articles on " British Song Birds' 1 that 
have appeared therein, written by our pen. 
We trust to be able in our next, to announce 
the issue of the negociation. If in our 
favor, the Public shall have the immediate 
benefit of the " Reprint," with many New 
and interesting Additions. The Articles, 
themselves, have long since been out of 
Print, and not obtainable at any cost. 


On the Propagation of Eels. — I am, like your- 
self, a lover of nature, and therefore venture to 
employ my pen on this subject, just to show 
that eels do not breed in fresh water, neither are 
the species propagated by spawn. I have seen and 
caught eels of all sizes, in the rivers of England, 
Scotland, and Ireland, and have also minutely 
examined sizes and sexes, but never saw one 
having eggs or spawn. In the tidal and other 
rivers, I have, in May and June, seen the eel 
fry ascending/rom the sea, in countless myriads; 
and, no matter how often thwarted, by muddy- 
ing the water or otherwise agitating it; no 
matter how often these wee things were driven 
back, — again and again do they face the stream, 

their motions ever being upwards and onwards 
with a perseverance that death only can prevent! 
When quite a child, I first noticed these tiny 
morsels (from the size of a bent straw to that of a 
wheaten straw, and about two or three inches 
long), climbing their way up the rocky falls of a 
little brook 1 had to cross, on my way to 
school. This Avas at least ninety miles from the 
sea! On the sunny evenings, on my return, 
often have I caught these little creatures, built a 
little fish-pool of mud, on the margin of the 
stream, filled it with water, and placed therein 
several of my little captives. However, on my 
return in the morning, they had always disap- 
peared; how, I could not then imagine, seeing 
that they had neither legs nor wings. With the 
hope of keeping my next prisoners safe, I covered 
my pool thickly over with grass; still, however, 
the morning found not the "grigs." They, like 
the others, had regained their liberty, and were 
somewhere pushing their way upward, seeking 
for some congenial pool wherein to grow bigger. 
In a few days, my little visitors were not to be 
found ascending as usual ; and, after the midsum- 
mer holidays, I searched again in vain. Not 
one was to be found. The tribes had gone up, 
and July witnessed not their migrations. How- 
ever, another May came, and brought other 
wanderers up the brook, and new sources of 
amusement to me. I was too young to know, 
and had no one to tell me, that in a few days 
these too would be removed from me ; but so it 
was. And in this year, before the 20th of June, 
I had lost them altogether; but the recollection 
remained, and, in after years, I saw many proofs 
of the instinct of these viviparous travellers. 
When I became a man, I occupied a farm about 
five miles from the sea. Part of the farm was 
meadow, lying in a valley, through which mean- 
dered a small stream. The water of this I had 
dammed up often Avith clay and stones, from 
which were cut sluices, for the purposes of irriga- 
tion. Amongst the clay and stones had grown 
lichens, grasses, &c. One day in May, I found 
these grasses literally swarming with little fry, 
such as had so often amused me in childhood ; 
and they were, as usual, on their upward journey, 
wriggling their way through the grass and lichen, 
and on the moist clay leaving their trails or foot 
prints. Lay after day was I amused by their 
successful climbing over the barriers, and oft-times 
1 shared their joy, when after having conquered 
the difficulties of "an overland journey," they 
floated again in their native element above the 
weir, and, without stopping to rest, or look back 
on the perils of the past, started upward with 
new energy, teaching a moral to bigger folk. 
These facts convinced me how I had lost the 
prisoners of my childhood from the little pool, 
and they' will also satisfy " G. H." how he gets 
"eels of all sizes into his three-acre pool," 
if he will look among the mosses and grasses on 
the banks of his pool, in the month of May or 
June. At the weirs, on the banks of many 
rivers, have I witnessed this migration on a 
larger scale. At Derby, I once saw a weir 
literally black with moving eel fry. I have seen 
them on mill-wheels, and in sluices; and 
almost every miller, or persons having charge of 
mills, might, in May or June, see a colony on its 

march towards some bourne or pool, if not 
actually in company with Joe Smith, journeying 
to the " Salt Lake." But grand or monster 
movements can only be witnessed on large 
rivers, such as the Severn, the Tay, the Bann, 
the Shannon, &c. In the Shannon, above 
Limerick, where the tide flows no higher, I have 
seen the spacious waters of the queen of Irish 
rivers black and lively with eel fry, where they 
may be taken by pailfulls, and large quantities 
of them are eaten in Limerick. Some persons 
prefer them fried quite plain ; others have them 
dressed in various ways, and eaten as you do 
whitebait. Many of your fair readers among the 
"Limerick belles," can give you "traits and 
stories " of these tiny tribes. But the most re- 
markable proof of the locomotive powers of eel 
fry, I ever saw, was on the river Bann, at the 
Tails of Coleraine, the Salmon-leap, or " Cutts," 
as it is locally called. There the tribes muster 
unusually strong. The fall is about eighteen 
feet, the spacious waters tumbling over a shelv- 
ing ledge of basaltic rock, causing a foaming 
pool below; and when there is " a fresh" in the 
river, and the rocks quite covered by the falling 
waters, the eel fry lose the power of ascent, not 
having the privilege of the rocky ladder. Their 
arrival, however, is known to the fishermen, and 
so are their wants ; and such is the importance of 
their ascent, that the fishermen make ropes of 
twisted straw. These are laid over the land, 
or across the straggling stones on the east, or 
Mount Sandel side of the river; one end lying in 
the waters below, the other end in the waters 
above, the falls. Up these wet ropes the eels 
climb in countless myriads, until they reach the 
upper waters, the ropes being blackened over by 
the vast numbers constantly ascending ! Your 
Coleraine correspondents will inform you further 
on these matters, and also about the eels of 
larger growth, in their downward course. The 
Irish Society of London, at Guildhall, could tell 
you (/olden stories about eels. And Earl O'Neil 
also can" a tale unfold," as to the profitable move- 
ments of these silvery tribes, on their return 
voyage, in the order of their courses toward 
the waters of the deep blue sea, there to deposit 
their viviparous progeny. There is also a gen- 
tleman in London, who could tell you with what 
satisfaction he pays, I think, £1,250 yearly, for 
the privilege of fishing eels in the River Bann. So 
well are the habits of the. " slippery eel " known 
and understood by the fishermen there, that they 
are always ready to intercept the fish on their 
first downward move, in the month of July, and 
so on during the whole " run;" but so canny, so 
wary, are these eels, that they never "run" 
during the daj^, nor do they love the light of the 
moon; but on a dark night, or when the moon 
is overcast, particularly if rain falls, there is a 
"general move," and many tons weight are 
sometimes taken in one night, at Tome, the 
first outlet from Lough Neagh. These eels are 
of various sizes, even up to five or six pounds 
each, being well grown. Yet there are no ap- 
pearances of spawn or eggs in any of them. It 
is however well known, that they are on their 
journey to fulfil the great law of "increase and 
multiply." "T. G." was therefore right, and 
highly to be commended, when he boldly ques- 

tioned the insane assertions of Mr. Boccius, and 
the Worcester operations ; and he is entitled to 
the best thanks of naturalists, for having called 
public attention to a very important subject. — 


Migratory Flight of Brown Butterflies. — In 
your Journal of January 24, you recorded a 
singular circumstance connected with this sub- 
ject, which was authenticated by the signature of 
" B., Barnham, Bucks." Being myself an entomo- 
logist, and much interested in every fact concern- 
ing butterflies, &c, I should feel greatly obliged 
if your correspondent would favor me, through 
your columns, with the name of the butterfly in 
question ; or give me as accurate a description of 
it as himself and his friend, who witnessed it, are 
able to pen down. This will interest many 
thousands of your readers, besides myself. — 
Eombyx Atlas. 

Cruelty to Birds. — Will you oblige me, Mr. 
Editor, by inserting among your interesting 
" Correspondence," a few remarks, particularly 
applicable at this season, about cruelty to birds? 
The Cockney sportsman, the schoolboy, and the 
idle vagrant, all pursue them; and just at a 
time when they are recovering from the ravages 
of winter, and about to " mate " for the season. 
The gardener, too, you must correct from time 
to time. He ought to know better than to destroy 
his best friends ; for such, birds are at this season. 
I have long had my eye upon the tone of your 
writings, and rejoiced at the fearless manner in 
which you have defended your porte'ge's, the 
birds. Now that you have a Paper of your own, 
carry the principle out fully, and then will society 
at large be benefited to a considerable extent. 
The remarks I wish you to insert, appear in "An 
Address to the Cottage Tenants of S. B. Chad- 
wick, Esq., of Daresbury Hall." It is written by 
the Rev. William Whitworth, M.A., Incumbent 
of Little Leigh, Cheshire : — " Speaking of birds, 
I hope you will not consider them as enemies, nor 
let your children think them so. True, they are 
sometimes very annoying in a garden, but they 
generally prefer animal food to vegetable, and de- 
vour many more insects than seeds. A few ingeni- 
ous contrivances will soon prevent them doing 
serious mischief, and if they do get a small share 
of the ripe fruit, it is only what a kind Providence 
intended them to have. They are a beautiful 
part of the creation; and on the whole, much more 
beneficial than injurious to a garden. Teach your 
children to look upon them as friends, to study 
their habits, and observe their peculiarities. 
This will improve their minds and soften their 
tempers, and make them more inclined to love 
one another. A bird -nesting, bird-tormenting 
boy seldom grows into a humane or good man." 
[This last remark we can back up, by saying we 
never knew a naturally-cruel boy grow up a 
good man. This is why we so insist upon due 
attention being paid to the earliest education of 
youth.] * * * "Pew sights are more in- 
teresting than that of a village, emulating one 
another in the cultivation of fruits and flowers. 
Such interesting pursuits entwine a man more closely 
with his home; and make him a better husband, 
a better father, and a better man." — J. S. M. 
TWe thank our correspondent much for so en- 



tering into our views and feelings. As we have 
before remarked, we want to be " useful " in our 
day and generation. Only give us a subject, 
and we will try and handle it to the advantage 
of the public.] 

A " Pet " Greenfinch.—" A right hearty wel- 
come be yours!" Mr. Editor, for having come 
amongst us as our M.D. — I, for one, rejoice at so 
fortunate a circumstance. Now tell me, how can 
I act with respect to my "pet" greenfinch? He 
is, I imagine, healthy and strong; for he eats like 
one of our city aldermen, hardly ever leaving off. 
He gives me, moreover, "striking proofs" of his 
strength; for he pecks hard at my hands, and 
makes me feel his power. He moulted two years 
ago " ragged," the same result attended his last 
moult. His "flights" have not grown, and his 
tail is miserably curtailed. I have tried change 
of food ; and having a large garden, I give my 
prisoner leave to wander in it, seeing that he 
cannot fly away. He gets many a "salad " there, 
and seems happy as a prince. Oh, could you but 
see him when he tries to " plume " the anatomies 
of his wings ! It would disturb the gravity even 
of " an Editor ! " Can you help me in this? If 
so, I shall be, more than ever, yours obliged, — 
Flora G. 

[Why, Miss Flora — Why have you withholden 
your address? You have made only half a con- 
fidant of us; for how can we tell you in print 
one quarter what is to be done under such cir- 
cumstances as you are placed in? If you con- 
fide in us, small evidence have we of it. Eeform 
this, if you please. Your bird's feathers can be 
restored ; but your affectionate hand must descend 
to inflict a small modicum of pain, — not more 
than the slight puncture of a needle would inflict 
on your own fair arm. Press the tail, and also 
the fleshy part of each wing, between your thumb 
and finger; and carefully draw the stump of each 
feather out, separately, by placing them one by 
one between your " ivories." By giving Mr. 
Finch the free run of the garden after this opera- 
tion, we pledge our reputation that in three weeks 
he will have a long-tailed coat, and look as spruce 
as " a youth of fifteen." We shall look for this to 
be confirmed.] 

On the Fecundation of the Eggs of the Domestic 
Fowl. — In Richardson's " Domestic Fowls," page 
73 (article • Turkey'), we find the following :— 
" It has been stated by some, and yet as positively 
denied by others, that one fecundation will render 
all the eggs of that laying, fertile. Without enter- 
ing into any discussion upon the subject, I may 
merely remark, Mr. Nolan is of opinion that 
such is the case ; and as he has had the advan- 
tage of many years' experience, I should be very 
sorry to differ from him." Now, Mr. Editor, as 
the same opinion is entertained by many persons 
respecting the common fowl, and I had an ad- 
mirable opportunity, last June, of testing the 
truth, I thought I would do so. But, perhaps, I 
should not have thought so much of it, had I not 
happened to converse with an intelligent friend, 
who, I can safely say, possessed, generally speak- 
ing, an accurate knowledge of established facts ; 
and who assured me that the clutch was rendered 
reproductive by one coitus only, as in turkeys. He 

mentioned moreover several "authorities ;" but their 
names I now forget, as being of the same opinion. 
Although I had my doubts as to the position (or 
why, I ask, so many clear eggs?) with respect to 
common fowl — and indeed I may add,' I also have 
of the turkey, — I resolved to set the point at rest, so 
far at least as regards my own opinion. The facts 
are these: — On the 16th of April, 1851, I received 
two pullets, or hens of the first year, first-rate 
dark speckled Dorkins; for which I fitted up, 
near the house, a neat and convenient little dwell- 
ing. This having a small yard attached, had 
also the benefit of the morning sun. They 
were well attended to; and for this they were not 
ungrateful. They yielded me in return, on the 
average, 10 eggs per week, until the middle of 
July. But to the present purpose. Before I 
received them, they had been laying some ten 
weeks; and all their eggs were fruitful; but 
as my object with them was not reproduction, 
I preferred keeping hens only. Observing, 
however, when the eggs were broken for 
use, exactly the same appearance, as far as 
the naked eye could discover — viz., the apparent 
germ, as shown by eggs really impregnated — it 
led to the before-mentioned conversation, and 
the following experiment. On the 31st of May, 
I took eight of the newest -laid eggs, and placed 
them in an apparatus, to hatch, or not, as the 
case might be. They were placed side by side 
with other eggs, obtained from other sources, 
and which, in due time (20th and 21st of June), 
made their appearance as chicks, and are now in 
my possession; so that the former had precisely 
the same treatment as the fecundated eggs. The 
said eggs, Math the others, were examined at the 
end of five days, and these eight marked as clear; 
but, to give every chance, they were left in a 
few days longer, and were then taken out and 
broken. They all proved clear, as also did others 
obtained from farm-houses. To prevent any 
risk of mistake, they were specially marked. 
The vesicula a'eris was much enlarged; as is 
usual with eggs which have been placed to hatch 
for as many days. Of course, they were perfectly 
sweet, as is the case with all un fecundated eggs. 
This experiment, I should imagine, would quite 
settle the point in respect of the common fowl, 
if such has not been already done. I shall en- 
deavor, at some future opportunity, to deter- 
mine the same respecting turkeys. — Walter. 

[The great question yet remains untouched. 
Is the whole " clutch " of eggs impregnated at 
once, or is each rendered fruitful day by day? 
We decidedly incline to the latter belief. It is a 
thing that might readily be experimented upon ; 
but our own time being now that of the public, 
others must do what, in this case, we cannot.] 


In our very popular, very useful, and very 
widely- circulated contemporary, the Family 
Herald, No. 456, there is one of a series of 
papers, signed by " The Fly," and called 
"Aunt Sarah," which tickles our fancy 
amazingly. We feel bound to add, that all 
the Essays by the same pen (this forms No. 
82 of the series) are admirably written, and 



conceived in the finest spirit of philanthropy. 
Report assigns their authorship to the widow 
of a military officer. If she be a widow, she 
is a most charming widow indeed ! By the way, 
this said " Fly " is supposed to be an invisi- 
ble insect, taking notes of what came under 
its eye. Thus much introductory. 

Our object now is, to endeavor to remove 
the stigma improperly attaching to maiden 
aunts, who are a grievously ill-used body of 
kind and excellent people. 

The tale to which we direct attention 
shows that, hut for Aunt Sarah., the union of 
two fond hearts never could have taken place, 
nor could their future prospects have been 
crowned with happiness. 

The heroine is a lovely young lass — Emily, 
by name ; the hero, one William Ainslie. 
The lovers meet on the sly, of course ; and 
bewail the fact of the papa (as naughty papas 
often will do) having promised his daughter's 
hand to a man whom she hates. They rave, 
they cry, they pout, and talk an immensity 
of nonsense, as all lovers do ; and then 
news comes that "Aunt Sarah" has arrived 
to act as a "spy." 

Emily relates why she considers her l Aunt 
Sarah ' to be " a spy ; " and her relation of 
circumstances causes William to have quite 
a different opinion of the old lady. Indeed, 
he declares emphatically, that he. is sure she 
will prove " a brick," The lovers separate, 
and Emily glides silently into the drawing- 
room, where sit Aunt Sarah and Emily's 
papa. Now let us hear the " Fly" speak : — 

Aunt Sarah sat by the lire, busily en- 
gaged in the Herculean labor of knitting 
an immense counterpane. She was a little, 
thin woman of about fifty, dressed in a black 
silk gown of an old-fashioned shape, and 
wearing a neat close cap, trimmed with white 
satin ribbon, over the plain braids of her 
gray hair. All this white and silver threw 
out strongly the extreme blackness of her 
eyebrows, and the keenness and brilliancy of 
her dark hazel eyes. Indeed, the first thing 
that struck me about her was an expression 
of vigilance and unobtrusive watchfulness, 
that quite justified her niece's description of 
her. On a further perusal of that thoughtful 
face, however, I perceived much that Emily 
had overlooked. There was a great deal of 
sound sense and caution, holding in check a 
considerable amount of benevolence. Her 
very first action corroborated my opinion. 
" Where have you been, Emily ? " said the 
father, sternly. " I have just come from my 
own room, papa," replied Emily, screening 
herself behind a fib oblique. " How cold it 
is away from the fire ! " she added, putting- 
one foot upon the fender as she stood just 
in front of her aunt. Was there mud in 
pretty Emily's chamber, or on the stairs, or 
how came it on that dainty little shoe? 
Her father stooped for the poker, and would 

most certainly have seen the muddy shoe, 
but for Aunt Sarah, who threw her work 
adroitly over it, saying, in a quiet manner, 
" You have not examined my knitting, Emily. 
Look closely at it, and then I shall expect a 
kiss to help me on with it, for it is intended 
as a present to you when you commence 
housekeeping." Emily looked at the work, 
but I thought she seemed rather averse to 
giving the required kiss ; probably because 
she understood the '' housekeeping " was ex- 
pected to be commenced with Mr. Benfield. 
" I'm sure you are very kind, Aunt," she 
said at last, approaching her face with an air 
of constraint towards her aunt's. 

" Change your shoes, foolish girl ! " whis- 
pered the aunt, drawing the fair round cheek 
close to her mouth, and then giving it a 
hearty kiss. " Will you fetch me a packet 
of cotton that lies on my dressing table, my 
dear ? And then I'll trouble you to hold 
the skeins." This was said aloud, and was 
intended, I thought, to give her an excuse 
for leaving the room ; and if so, the young 
man was certainly correct in his notion that 
Aunt Sarah might turn out to be a brick. 
At all events Emily took the hint and slipped 
out, leaving the knitting-needles going click- 
etty-clicketty, with their customary monoto- 
nous rattle. " I am glad to see that Emily 
is coming to her senses a little," said the old 
gentleman as he refolded the Times with 
a pompous air, and settled himself down to 
its perusal. " I fully expected some imper- 
tinent speech when you alluded to her 
marriage." " I can't quite understand her 
yet," responded the lady, in that dubious 
tone which seems to imply that the speaker 
cannot discuss the subject till he has ob- 
tained further information upon it. In a 
few minutes Emily returned with the cotton 
in her hand, clean shoes on her feet, and a 
very puzzled expression upon her face. She 
knelt at a little distance, and held the skeins 
for her aunt to wind, watching her counte- 
nance intently all the while ; but she must 
have had much sharper eyes than mine, if 
she could make anything out of that im- 
moveable face beyond an earnest desire to 
form the cotton into a symmetrical ball. 
Whatever she might, or might not see, or 
fancy she saw, it appeared that by a kind of 
fascination she caught the infection of fancy 
work, for she brought out a half-finished 
anti-macassar, to show her aunt what she 
could do in the way of ornamental industry. 
Then the two sat side by side for more than 
an hour, chatting in low tones that they 
might not disturb the political lucubrations 
of him whom I found the young men desig- 
nated as "the governor," while they com- 
pared notes and stitches, and discussed the 
comparative merits and capabilities of knit- 
ting and crochet. 
After all this subdued conversation upon 



strictly scientific subjects, Emily began to 
fidget about on the footstool where she sat 
beside her aunt's knee, and to cough ner- 
vously ; and then she fell into long intervals 
of silence, and then looked anxiously at her 
father, who showed strong symptoms of 
lapsing into somnolency. At last the paper 
slid gently to the floor, his double chin was 
snugly bedded in his shirt frill, one hand 
was in a pocket, and the other, which had 
just resigned the paper, hung helplessly 
over the arm of his deep, soft, high-backed 
easy- chair. 

" How quiet and comfortable we are this 
evening, without those noisy, rude brothers 
of mine ! " whispered Emily, fixing her large 
eyes a upon her aunt's immoveable face. " Yes, 
very quiet," said Aunt Sarah, counting her 
stitches. " Don't you think they treat me 
very unkindly ? " asked Emily. " What do 
you say, my dear ? " said the aunt, pretend- 
ing to be deaf. " Don't you think they treat 
me very unkindly," repeated Emily, emphasis- 
ing her query by laying her hand gently on 
her aunt's knee, and still gazing at her with 
those large eyes now filled with tears. "In what 
respect?" asked Aunt Sarah, concisely, 
laying down her work at the same time, and 
looking full into the sweet countenance of 
her niece. 

"About this marriage, 
somewhat confused. 

" Is it not a good one ? 
father wish it ? " 

' ■ But, dear aunt, ought my father's wishes 
to be consulted so much as mine, in such a 
case?" "An obedient daughter should 
always be guided by the experience and 
better judgment of her parents." " But what 
can I think of my father's judgment when 
he has broken his promise ? " " You must 
be mistaken, my dear ; I am sure your father 
never would break his promise." " Indeed 
he has, aunt, and I'll tell you how. Before 
my mother's death I was engaged to a gentle- 
man, whom I loved^ten thousand million times 
better than I do Mr. Benfield " 

" How much ? " interrupted the aunt, 
opening her eyes very wide, in affected as- 

" Oh ! it is nonsense to try to say how 
much, for I detest Mr. Benfield most cordially, 
and I love William Ainslie — oh ! aunt, I 
love him so much, so devotedly, so " 

" Yes, I understand all that, Emily. And 
so you are seriously engaged to this William 
Ainslie ? Did your father sanction it ? " 

" Certainly he did, and my dear mother 
loved him like her own son, and wished to 
see us married before she died. Before our 
mourning for her was over, Uncle Sam died 
at Barbadoes, and left papa a great deal of 
money. I was so pleased at that, like a 
foolish girl that I was ! for I thought it 
would be such a good thing for William, 

replied Emily, 
Does not your 

because he had recently had some losses ; 
when all at once my father began to cool 
towards him, and to talk to me about look- 
ing higher ; and my brothers began to talk 
to one another before me about snobs, and 
sneaks, and fortune-hunters ; and wonder how 
it was that girls should be so blind as not 
to see when they were courted for their 
money. At last I found out that they were 
talking at William and me ; and how I did 
fire up ! I was in strong hysterics and faint- 
ing-fits all the night after, and they had to 
fetch the doctor at three o'clock in the morn- 
i n <r " * * * * * 

" But this evening," continued Aunt Sarah, 
" when you knew they would be out — if you 
had been on the alert, might you not even 
have arranged a meeting ? " 

This was said in a sly tone., and accom- 
panied by a look full of meaning. Emily 
cast down her eyes, and looked very much 
confused. The provoking aunt would not 
help her out of the dilemma, but looked at 
her in silence. Several times the pretty 
culprit drew her breath and tried to speak, 
but it would not do ; she could not find her 
voice. She raised her eyes at last, very 
timidly, to those of her formidable aunt, and 
encountered a gaze so full of roguish good' 
nature, that all hesitation melted before it ; she 
threw her arms round Aunt Sarah's neck and 
covered her face with kisses. 

" Oh ! I'm sure — I'm quite sure you mean 
to help us ! " Emily exclaimed, beginning to 
sob with delight. 

" Don't be too sure of any such thing, you 
little puss ! " was the reply ; " you are jump- 
ing very hastily to your conclusions. I make 
no promises, remember ; but if, after a care- 
ful investigation, I find it is all as you say, I 
will help you, and that with no half measures. 
So now go on with your work, for if your 
papa sees you kissing me, he'll never believe 
it is for showing you a new stitch in knitting. " 

" Oh ! what a darling, kind aunt you are, 
after all ! " cried the young lady, looking 
sentimentally up at her industrious relative, 
who was knitting away again as busily as 
before. " William was quite right ; he said 
he thought you would prove to be a brick ! " 
"Prove to be a what f " cried the aunt, drop- 
ping her work in amazement. " A brick — 
don't you know what a brick means ? " "I 
know the bricks used for building, and Bath 
bricks, and a loaf of a particular shape that 
is called a brick ; but I am at a loss to guess 
which of these you mean to compare me to." 
" And I'm sure I don't know either," said 
Emily, looking puzzled ; "my brothers often 
use the word, and I learnt it from them 
without ever thinking what it meant exactly. 
I'll ask them to-morrow." "And I shall be 
glad to be enlightened. Are you sure they 
will not be home till late this evening ? " 



After this, " Aunt Sarah " tackles the old 
1 governor,' rates him most soundly, and 
finally, but not unwillingly, gets her niece 
and herself turned out of the house. The 
result may be guessed. The young folks 
very wisely get married as soon as possible, 
and settle down. 

* * * * About a week afterwards, 
the obdurate father received Mr. and Mrs, 
Ainslie's wedding cards. Many things had 
happened to the old gentleman during this 
week. Soon after the departure of Emily 
and her aunt, two of his sons had returned 
from the bachelor's party, very much intox- 
icated, leaving their brother and Mr. Benfield 
in the hands of the law, for ringing bells, 
wrenching off knockers, assaulting the police, 
and other gentlemanly amusements. The 
two who came home were exceedingly violent 
and abusive to their father, when they found 
that Emily was gone ; and in addition to 
their disrespectful conduct and the trouble 
he had about the other (who was summarily 
sent to hard labor for two months), the old 
man missed the gentle ministerings of his 
daughter. While she was with him, he 
would not have acknowledged that he owed 
a single comfort to her presence, but now 
that she was gone he felt the want of her 
during every hour of his home life. 

His sister had thoughtfully put the address 
on one of the cards, and the moment he read 
it, the now repentant father ran as fast as 
his portly figure would allow, to an omnibus 
that was just starting, and which deposited 
him shortly at the very door. Emily was 
out for a walk with her husband, and when 
she returned, Aunt Sarah met her at the top 
of the stairs. 

" Shut your eyes and open your mouth, 
and see what luck will send you," she said, 
and making a sign to Mr. Ainslie to keep 
silent, she led her niece into the drawing- 
room, and placed her in her father's arms. 

" Papa ! dear, dear papa ! " the delighted 
girl exclaimed, as she felt the well-known kiss. 

" Forgive me, my child," said the old man, 
while the- tears trickled clown his cheeks ; 
" I've been very unhappy since you left me, 
and I've found out that you are worth the 
whole lot of your rascally brothers, and they 
shan't stand between you and me any longer, 
my little Emily. I'm a hot-headed old fel- 
low, I know, but 1 haven't a bad heart. Give 
me your hand, William Ainslie ; I beg your 
pardon for the wrong I have been led to do 
you, but all shall be mended, all shall be 

" When you alter your will, brother ? " 
asked Aunt Sarah, slily. " I'm afraid you 
had not time to do it before you came away 
this morning. Or perhaps you are now on 
your way to the lawyer's to cut Emily off 
with a shilling, as you said you would ? " 

" Sister," he said gravely, " when a man 
talks in a passion, he generally talks nonsense. 
So now, don't you throw those words in my 
face again. I shall alter my will, and you 
shall see it, and if it don't please you, the 
deuce is in it, that's all. And then I hope 
you'll come and keep house for me again. I 
shall send all those boys out into the world 
to work for themselves. They're not Jit to 
stay at home." * * * * 

Who, after this, will ever run down maiden 
aunts ? Who, so well as they, can serve us 
"at a pinch?" "Long life to the whole 
race ! " say we. 


A Good Fire. 

What a blessing is a good fire, when it- 
awaits us on our coming down stairs to 
breakfast ! Let us state a case. 

It is a clear morning, or, as the reader 
pleases, there is a little hoar frost upon 
the windows, a bird or two coming after 
the crumbs, and the light smoke from the 
neighboring chimneys brightening up into 
the early sunshine. We rise with an elastic 
anticipation; enjoy the freshening cold water 
which endears what is to come ; and even 
go placidly through the villanous scraping 
process which we soften down into the level 
and lawny appellation of shaving. We then 
hurry down stairs, rubbing our hands, and 
sawing the sharp air through our teeth ; 
and as we enter the breakfast-room, see 
our old companion, the fire, glowing through 
the bars, the life of the apartment ; and want- 
ing only our friendly hand to be lightened 
a little, and enabled to shoot up into 
dancing brilliancy. 

The poker is applied, and would be so, 
whether required or not; for it is impossible 
to resist the sudden ardor inspired by that 
sight; the use of the poker, on first see- 
ing one's fire, is as natural as shaking 
hands with a friend. At that movement a 
hundred little sparkles fly up from the coal- 
dust that falls within, while from the masses 
themselves a roaring flame mounts aloft 
with a deep and fitful sound as of a shaken 

The utility as well as beauty, of the fire 
during breakfast, need not be pointed out to 
the most unphlogistic observer. A person 
would rather be shivering at any time of the 
day than at that of his first rising — the 
transition would be too unnatural — he is not 
prepared for it, as Barnardine says, when he 
objects to being hanged. If you eat plain 
bread and butter with your tea, it is fit that 
your moderation should be rewarded with a 
good blaze ; and if you indulge in hot rolls 
or toast, you will hardly keep them to their 



warmth without it, particularly if you read ; 
and then — if you take in a newspaper — 
what a delightful change from the wet, raw, 
dabbling fold of paper, when you first touch 
it, to the dry, crackling, crisp superficies 
which, with a skilful spat of the finger-nails 
at its upper end, stands at once in your hand, 
and looks as if it said, " Come, read me." 

Nor is it the look of the newspaper only 
which the fire must render complete ; it is 
the interest of the ladies who may happen 
to form part of your family — of your wife in 
particular, if you have one — to avoid the 
niggling and pinching aspect of cold ; it 
takes away the harmony of her features, and 
the graces of her behavior; while, on the 
other hand, there is scarcely a more interest- 
ing sight in the world than that of a neat, 
delicate, good-humored female, presiding at 
your breakfast table, with hands tapering 
out of her long sleeves, eyes with a touch of 
Sir Peter Lely in them, and a face set in a 
little oval frame of muslin tied under the 
chin, and retaining a certain tinge of the 
pillow without its cloudiness. 

This is, indeed, the finishing grace of a 
fireside, though it is impossible to have it at 
all times, and perhaps not always politic, 
especially for the studious. — Leigh Hunt. 


The musquitoes, ants, baraten, and sand- 
fleas, are another source of annoyance ; 
many a night have I been obliged to sit up, 
tormented and tortured by the bite of these 
insects. It is hardly possible to protect 
provisions from the attacks of the baraten 
and ants, The latter, in fact, often appear 
in long trains of immeasurable length, pur- 
suing their course over every obstacle which 
stands in the way. During my stay in the 
country at Herr Geiger's, I beheld a swarm 
of this description traverse a portion of the 
house. It was really most interesting to see 
what a regular line they formed ; nothing- 
could make them deviate from the direction 
they had first determined on. Madame 
Geiger told me that she was one night awoke 
by a horrible itching ; she sprang immedi- 
ately out of bed, and beheld a swarm of ants 
of the above description pass over her bed. 
There is no remedy for this ; the end of the 
procession, which often lasts four or six 
hours, must be waited for with patience. 
Provisions are to some extent protected 
from them, by placing the legs of the tables 
and presses in plates filled with water. 
Clothes and linen are laid in tightly- fitting 
tin canisters, to protect them not only from 
the ants, but also from the baraten and the 
damp. The worst plague of all, however, 
are the sand-fleas, which attach themselves 
to one's toes, underneath the nails, or some • 

times to the soles of the feet. The moment 
a person feels an itching in these parts, he 
must immediately look at the place ; if he 
sees a small black point surrounded by a 
small white ring, the former is the flea, and 
the latter the eggs which it has laid in the 
flesh. The first thing done is to loosen the 
skin all round as far as the white ring is 
visible ; the whole deposit is then extracted, 
and a little snuff strewed in the empty space. 
The best plan is to call in the first Black you 
may happen to see, as they all perforin this 
operation very skilfully. — From " A Woman's 
Journey Round the World" 


There is something " deliciously cool " in 
the following remarks of "a traveller." We 
confess we had rather sit at home and read 
them, than play first fiddle in the hunt. The 
scene is laid in India. Says the traveller, 
V Syud Daoud described to me the mode of 
tying a hyaena in his lair, as follows : — 
' When,' said he, ' you have tracked the 
beast to his den, you take a rope with 
two slip knots upon it in your right hand, 
and, with your left holding a felt cloak before 
you, you go boldly, but quietly in. The animal 
does not know what is the nature of the 
danger, and therefore retires to the back of 
his den ; but you may always tell where his 
head is by the glare of his eyes. You keep 
moving on gradually towards him on your 
knees, and when you are within distance, 
throw the cloak over his head, close with him, 
and take care that he does not free himself. 
The beast is so frightened that he cowers 
back, and, though he may bite the felt, he 
cannot turn his neck round to hurt you ; so 
you quietly feel for his tioofore legs, slip the 
knots over them, and then, with one strong 
pull draw them tight up to the back of his 
neck, and tie them there. The beast is now 
your own, and you do what you like 'with him. 
We generally take those which we catch 
home to the khail, and hunt them on the 
plain, with bridles in their 'mouths, that our 
dogs may be taught not to fear the brutes 
when they meet them wild.' " 

What nice " stories" travellers do tell! 
And it would appear as if they related them 
until they credited them themselves. 

Truth: and Falsehood. — Falsehood is the 
faint light which, glimmering amid the darkness 
of the noisome fens, leads the unfortunate traveller 
to destruction. Truth is the radiant sun in Leo, 
when he has gained the zenith, and pours a flood 
of light upon the wanderer's path. Falsehood 
brings misfortune and misery in her train, like 
the spreading pestilence of the wind of the desert; 
but Truth, like the odoriferous gales of summer, 
imparts health and vigor, while she administers 
pleasure and delight. 





" A wise man will always note down whatever strikes 
him as being worthy of observation. It may, at a future 
time, benefit or amuse others as well as himself." — 

Charles Lamb's Goodness of Heart. — He 
used to seek out occasions of devoting a part of 
his surplus to those of his friends whom he be- 
lieved it would really serve, and almost forced 
loans, or gifts in the disguise of loans, upon 
them. If he thought one, in such a position, 
would be the happier for £50 or £100, he would 
carefully procure a note for the sum, and perhaps 
for days before he might meet the object of his 
friendly purpose, keep the note in his waistcoat 
pocket, " burning" in it till it could be pro- 
duced, and, when the occasion arrived — " in the 
sweet of the night" — he would crumple it into his 
hand and stammer out his difficulty of disposing 
of a — a little money. " I don't know what to do 
with it — pray take it — pray use it — you will do 
me a kindness if you will" he would say ; and it 
was hard to disoblige him ! 

[We record this, to the honor of Charles 
Lamb, Since his death, there have been, we fear, 
more Wolves than Lambs. Charity is indeed 
" cold !"] 

Mrs. Howard's Spending Money. — The be- 
nevolent John Howard, well known for his phi- 
lanthropy, especially his attention to prisoners, 
having settled his accounts at the close of a par- 
ticular year, and found a balance in his favor, 
proposed to his wife to make use of it in a journey 
to London, or in any other excursion she chose. 
" What a pretty cottage for a poor family it would 
build /" was her answer. This charitable hint met 
with his cordial approbation, and the money was 
laid out accordingly. 

Emulation. — Those natural inclinations of the 
human mind ought to be encouraged to the 
utmost (under proper regulations) which tend to 
put it upon action and excelling. Whoever 
would wish his son to be diligent in his studies, 
and active in business, can use no better means 
for that purpose than stirring up in him emula- 
tion, a desire of praise, and a sense of honor and 
shame. Curiosity will put a youth upon in- 
quiring into the nature and reason of things, and 
endeavoring to acquire universal knowledge. 
This passion ought, therefore, to be excited to the 
utmost, and gratified even when it shows itself by 
his asking the most childish questions, which 
should always be answered in as rational and satis- 
fying a manner as possible. 

Superstition gendered by Trifles. — As if 
the natural calamities of life were not sufficient 
for it, we turn the most indifferent circumstances 
into misfortunes, and suffer as much from trifling 
accidents as from real evils. I have known the 
shooting of a star spoil a night's rest ; and have 
seen a man in love, grow pale and lose his appe- 
tite upon the plucking a merry thought. A screech- 
owl at midnight has alarmed a family more than 
a band of robbers ; nay, the voice of a cricket hath 
struck more terror than the roaring of a lion. 

There is nothing so inconsiderable which may 
not appear dreadful to an imagination that is 
filled with omens and prognostics : a rusty nail 
or crooked pin shoot up into prodigies! — 

Promisers. — There is a sort of people in the 
world of whom the young and inexperienced stand 
much in need to be warned. These are the san- 
guine promisers. They may be divided into two 
sorts. The first are those who, from a foolish 
custom of fawning upon all those they come in 
company with, have learned a habit of promising 
to do great kindnesses, which they have no thought 
of performing. The other are a sort of warm 
people, who, while they are lavishing away their 
promises, have really some thought of doing 
what they engage for; but afterwards, when 
the time of performance comes, the sanguine ft 
being gone off, the trouble or expense appears in 
another light ; the promiser cools, and the expec- 
tant is bubbled, or perhaps greatly injured by the 
disappointment. — Burgh. 

A joke never gains over an enemy; but it 
often loses a friend. 


In the Register of the Stationers' Company, 
we find the following from a MS. of the time of 
James I. 

Maides and Widowes. 
If ever I marry, I'le marry a maide: 
16 marry a widowe I am sore afrayde: 
For niaydes they are simple, and never will 

But widowes full oft, as they saie, know to[o~] 

A maide is so sweete and so gentle of kinde, 
That a maide is the wyfe I will choose to my 

minde : 
A widowe is froward, and never will yeeld; 
Or if such there be , you will meet them but 

A maide nere complaineth, do what so you will ; 
But what you meane well, a widowe takes ill ; 
A widowe will make you a drudge and a slave, 
And cost nere so much, she will ever go brave. 
A maide is so modest, she seemeth a rose, 
When it first beginneth the bud to unclose ; 
But a widowe full blowen full often deceives; 
And the next winde that bloweth, shakes downe 

all her leaves. 
That widowes be lovelie, I never gainsaye, 
But well all their bewtie they know to display ; 
But a maide hath so great hidden bewty in 

She can spare to a widowe, yet never be pore. 
Then, if I marry, give me a fresh maide, 
If to marry with aniel need be not afrayde; 
But to marry with anie it asketh much care, 
And some bachelors hold they are best as 


London : Published by George Berber, 19, Holywell 
Street, Strand (to whom all Letters and Communica- 
tions, Sealed and Addressed to" the Editor," and Books 
for Review, are to be forwarded) ; and Procurable, 
by order, of every Bookseller and Jfewsvendor in the 

Loxdon : Myers & Co., Printers, 22, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 



Conducted by WILLIAM KIDD, of Hammersmith,— 

Author op the Familiar and Popular Essays on "Natural History;" "British Sonq 

Birds;" "Birds of Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" 

" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c. 


No. 9.— 1852. 


Price l£rf. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price Id 

Introductory Chapter. 

" Nature is but a name for an effect, whose cause 
is GOD."— Cowper. 

In accordance with the wishes expressed 
by our philanthropic Correspondent, Amicus, 
(see London Journal, No. 8, p. 119), we 
have given his proposition our very best 
attention ; and we confess that our Corre- 
spondent has good reason and good sense on 
his side when he urges us to make the won- 
derful science of Phrenology " exten- 
sively popular." 

We admire, too, the Christian spirit with 
which he proposes the whole inquiry shall 
be conducted — placing Man and his Creator 
in their proper, relative positions. If this 
were lost sight of, and mere " theoretical 
speculations " indulged in, ours would be 
a hopeless cause indeed ! But it is a most 
righteous cause, — " Magna est Veritas 
et prcevalebit." Truth, in all its grandeur, is 
on our side, and it will carry all before it. 

Our first and grandest object will be, to 
record "facts," which Burke says, "are 
to the mind the same thing as food to the 
body. On the due digestion of facts," he 
adds, "depend the strength and wisdom of 
the one, just as vigor and health depend upon 
the other." This is worth bearing in lively 

The time has quite gone by, when people 
were blindly led by the nose ; and ignorantly 
thought as others thought — without reflecting 
for themselves. Education has assisted greatly 
in this matter ; and society has benefited in 

Thousands of our fellow-men, who formerly 
resorted to low public houses and wasted their 
evenings in the so-called "enjoyment" of 
ribald jests, now form worthy, estimable mem- 
bers of society. They have, too, their Weekly 
Magazine, and favorite author, to fill up their 
leisure moments. The greater their advance 

in knowledge — for knowledge is progressive, 
and always makes its possessor thirst for 
more — the greater we observe their desire 
to be to find out a reason or " cause " for 
everything that comes under their notice. 
It is this spirit of inquiry that has stimulated 
so many of our now eminent men to rise 
" from the ranks." Despising difficulty, and 
aspiring to eminence, they reached the goal, 
— setting an example which we hope to see 
universally followed. It shall be our aim 
to encourage this, and to assist in it by 
every available means in our power. 

It is quite evident to all who choose to 
argue on the matter, that the human Brain 
is the seat of Reason ; and that therein is 
contained the regulating medium of all our 
actions. How important then is the study 
of it ! How culpable are those who refuse 
to listen, and who are too apathetic to in- 
quire about what is of such vital interest 
to themselves and to society at large ! 

We can now look back to our early days, 
and give satisfactory reasons for our defi- 
ciencies and excellencies. The former, our 
teachers (fool like) endeavored to remedy by 
the rod and by punishment ; but neither had 
any good effect. We possessed not the 
" power," nor the "ability " to do what was 
required of us, in certain of the sciences. We 
shone in many. Our 'cuteness indeed 
could not be surpassed ; but when coerced 
into the study of others which were beyond 
our capacity (we use an advisedly apt word) 
to learn — as well might a Negro have been 
submitted to the action of soap, with a view 
to change his complexion. 

We have for many years past thought on 
this, and it has swayed us much in our course 
through life. We have often passed over 
offences, and forgiven acts of unkindness in 
our fellow-creatures, which it has appeared 
to us they could not help committing. Do not 
let us subject ourselves here to the charge 
of being "fatalists," or of fondly imagining 
that we are not "responsible creatures." 

Vol. I.— New Series. 

This doctrine is the doctrine of Evil Spirits, 
and shall never be advocated in any Paper 
whose destiny is ruled over by our pen. No, 
no; we shall take special care to guard 
against any such loose dogmas, and show 
how these naturally- evil propensities can be 
subdued, conquered, and triumphed over. 
Therein consists the " beauty " of the Science 
on which we propose to treat. 

" The proper study of mankind is Man," 

says the poet ; and it is this study which 
we shall endeavor to render familiar to the 
masses. , The moral good which we are 
likely to do society in the course of this inquiry, 
will stimulate us to the utmost exertion ; and 
OUR pages shall have the honor of wafting 
to distant lands every argument* that can 
exalt the Creator, and assign his creatures, 
(amongst which Man stands first in order) 
their proper place. 

Of late years, our observation of mankind 
has been very keen and very searching. We 
have been placed by Fortune (some would 
say misfortune) in sundry very critical situ- 
ations,— situations which have forced " re- 
flection " upon us. Iago says in the play : — 

"Men* should be what they seem." 

Unfortunately, on certain occasions, we 
have too credulously leaned towards the 
belief that they were so ! A fatal error this, 
for which we have smarted in mind and in 
pocket. But let that pass. 

Our last, and somewhat recent error, in 
believing Men to be what they seemed — has 
cured us effectually of " credulity." " The 
head ! the head ! " say we, now. Had we 
said so then, and made Phrenology and 
Physiognomy our " unerring guides," how 
much mental agony should we not have 
escaped ! " But then," our readers will add, 
" Kidd's Journal would never have ap- 
peared ! " True ; we forgot that. 

*' Sunt denique fines J " 

or, in the vulgatc, " there is an end to every- 
thing." Let us hope our sorrows are among 
them. We have walked in via tritd (the 
old beaten track) too long, we will now 

Next week, we purpose commencing the 
Biography of the Illustrious Gall. This we 
shall follow up by a selection from his Works, 
which will make us all " think," and cast a 
light upon society that they never dreamt of. 

Gall has said some astounding things. 
These caused him banishment. Galileo once 
said, " The world was round, and that it moved 
on its axis." For this, the Inquisition im- 
prisoned him. Still, the world moved for all 
that ! and has done so ever since ! ! 

So shall the everlasting fountains of 
Truth and Nature continue to flow. Never 
can they be turned aside to gratify the vanity 
or self-sufficiency of any one ! 


A Familiar History of Birds ; their Nature, 
Habits, and Instincts. By the late 
Edward Stanley, D.D., F.R.S. 8vo. 

This work, the production of the late 
worthy Bishop of Norwich, has just reached 
its fifth Edition ; and when we regard the 
subject-matter of it, and the clearness of its 
arrangement, its popularity can hardly be 
matter for surprise. 

In a plain, manly preface— indeed, almost 
in the same expressions as those used by 
ourselves in the first Number of our OWN 
Journal — the author says : — 

There are few individuals who have it not in 
their power, occasionally, to remark the instincts 
and habits of Birds; and the many anecdotes 
collected from the Author's own observation, 
the information of friends, or various respectable 
sources, will, it is hoped, excite others to register 
any " pacts" within their reach, which may illus- 
trate the mysterious economy whereby this beautiful 
portion of God's ovation is enabled, in so many 
instances, to surpass the highest efforts of man's 
ingenuity , foresight, or philosophy. 

As we shall have occasion, in the coming 
seasons, of Spring and Summer, to notice this 
book again, we will leave the lesser birds 
pro tern., and copy some interesting passages 
about the various tribes of Pigeons, and 
that cruelly-hunted bird, the Partridge. 
We take all our English birds under the 
special protection of the People's Journal. 
In us they shall ever find a staunch advo- 
cate and a warm-hearted friend. 

Our first extracts have reference to 
Pigeons : — 

In this country, where Pigeons are, generally 
speaking, a domestic bird, few persons have an 
idea of their countless increase and abundance, 
when left to themselves, roaming over wide 
tracts, and following, almost without interrup- 
tion, their natural habits. Even in our dove- 
cotes, however, their increase is often prodigious; 
it having been found that, in the course of four 
years, nearly 15,000 have been produced from a 
single pair. Bearing this in mind, the reader 
will be better prepared to credit the startling 
accounts of the myriads of these birds, so often 
witnessed in North America, consisting of a par- 
ticular species called the Passenger, or Migratory 
Pigeon, from their regular visits to certain dis- 
tricts, either for the purpose of feeding, or 
rearing their young. And though tens of thou- 
sands are destroyed, chiefly at their roosting- 
places, the numbers seem rather to increase than 
diminish. Such multitudes had never before 
been witnessed as in 1829. Flocks extending 
miles in length, were, for days together, seen 
passing over the hills during the Spring, from 
the southward ; the mighty mass collecting in an 
encampment in a forest, upwards of nine miles 
in length, and four in breadth, in which there was 
scarcely a tree, large or small, which was not 

loaded with their nests. In those parts of Eng- 
land frequented by our common Wood-Pigeons, 
the well-known rustling and rattling of a host of 
wings, as a cloud of them rise from some favorite 
haunt in the wood, will not easily be forgotten ; 
but this clattering of flapping pinions is nothing 
when compared to the uprising of these Ame- 
rican flights, which is described as an absolute and 
constant roaring, so loud and overpowering, 
that persons on approaching the wood can with 
difficulty hear each other speak. Amidst these 
scenes of apparent bustle and confusion, there 
reigns, notwithstanding, the most perfect regu- 
larity and order. The old ones take their turns 
regularly in feeding their young; and when any 
of them are killed upon their nests, others imme- 
diately supply their places. 

It has been said, that they only lay one egg 
at a time, but this is not strictly true, many of 
them laying two. But even at this rate, it 
would be difficult to account for their vast num- 
bers, without the further knowledge of their 
prolific nature, and the rapid growth of the young 
birds. Their sittings are renewed, Or rather 
continued ; one pair having been thus known to 
produce seven, and another, eight times in one 
year. In twenty-three days from the laying of 
the egg, the young ones could fly, being com- 
pletely feathered on the eighth day. When the 
broods are matured (with the exception of pro- 
bably, some tons of the young, which are killed 
and carried off by actual wagon-loads, being 
more esteemed for food than the old ones), they 
continue their course towards the north; from 
whence, in December, they return in the same 
dense mass, and are usually found to be remark- 
ably fat; proving, that in the northern regions 
they find an ample supply of food; and vast 
indeed must be the stock, to furnish and fatten 
such a swarm of hungry mouths. In the crop of 
one of our common English Wood-Pigeons, just 
killed, we found upwards of an ounce of the 
fresh-budding leaves of clover, and in another, 
mentioned by Mr. White, of Selborne, was found 
an equal quantity of tender turnip-tops, so nice 
and inviting, that the wife of the person who 
shot it, boiled and ate them, as a delicate dish of 
greens, for supper. The consumption of grains 
of wheat by a common House-Pigeon, we found 
to amount to two ounces in twenty -four hours ; 
and in the following twenty-four hours, when 
fed with peas, it consumed about the same weight. 
Hence we may easily form some idea of the 
enormous consumption of a large flight. Sup- 
posing one Pigeon to feed regularly at the above 
rate, its annual average supply would amount to 
about fifty pounds in weight, — a serious con- 
sumption of grain when large numbers are 
concerned. The following calculation, made by 
a very accurate observer, places the subject, as 
far as relates to the American Wood-Pigeons, 
in a still more striking point of vieAV. He saw 
a column of Pigeons, one mile in breadth, 
moving at the rate of one mile a minute, which, 
as it was four hours in passing, made its whole 
length 240 miles. He then calculated that each 
square yard of this moving body contained three 
Pigeons, which thus gave two thousand two hun- 
dred and thirty millions, two hundred and 
seventy-two thousand Pigeons ! and yet this he 

considered to be less than the real number. 
Computing each of these to consume half-a-pint 
of seed daily, the whole quantity would equal 
seventeen millions four hundred and twenty-four 
thousand bushels per day. Heaven, he adds, 
has wisely and graciously given to these birds 
rapidity of flight, and a disposition to range over 
vast uncultivated tracts of the earth, otherwise 
they must have perished in the districts where 
they resided, or devoured the whole produc- 
tions of agriculture, as well as those of the 

We conclude with some interesting and 
lively descriptions of the Partridge : — 

Generally speaking, the Partridge is a much 
shier bird than the Pheasant, and though we 
have found it, in the above case, quitting its own 
species to live with another, it can seldom be in- 
duced to lay aside its natural habits, and become 
quite tame. Occasionally, however, by great 
care, they have been known to attach themselves 
to man. 

In a clergyman's family, one was reared, 
which became so familiar that it would attend 
the parlour at breakfast, and other times; and 
would afterwards stretch itself before the fire, 
seeming to enjoy the warmth, as if it were 
its natural bask on a sunny bank. The dogs of 
the house never molested it, but unfortunately it 
one day fell under the paws of a strange cat, and 
was killed. 

The Partridge, as is well known, usually builds 
in corn-fields, where, undisturbed, amidst a 
forest of tall wheat-stems, it rears its brood. 
Like other birds, it sometimes however chooses 
a very different sort of nursery, as, for instance, 
a hay-stack, on the top of which a nest was once 
formed, a covey hatched, and safely carried off. 

In England we have but one sort, but in 
France, and other parts of Europe, they have 
beautiful;varieties, — the red-legged, Barbary Par- 
tridges, &c. ; and in America, there are again 
other sorts, peculiar to the New World. We 
shall give Captain Head's lively description of 
two varieties, the larch and spruce Partridges, 
which he met with in his expedition into the 
interior, near Lake Huron. 

" Early in the Spring," he says, " they make 
their appearance in the pine-woods, welcomed 
by the solitary back-settlers, not only as harbin- 
gers of returning warmth, but as an agreeable 
addition to their stock of provisions, and a source 
of amusement. At first, when the snow still 
covers the ground, they are easily tracked, though 
by no means easily discovered in the trees, on 
which these two species invariably perch. They 
ran for a considerable distance from their pursu- 
ers, before they rise, turning backwards and 
forwards, and round and round, twisting about 
the trees in such a manner as to make it difficult 
to follow up the foot-marks, and but for the 
assistance of dogs familiar with the sport, the 
keenest eye is often foiled." Captain Head thus 
describes his first meeting with one of these 
birds : — 

" The snow in the woods was crisp from the 
night's frost, and the sun was just rising in a 
clear sky, when the marks of game attracted my 
notice, and my spaniel at the same time evinced 



the most eager interest and curiosity in the 
pursuit, quartering the ground from right to 
left. After walking about half an hour, he sud- 
denly quested, and on going up to him I found 
him at the edge of a swamp, among a clump of 
white cedar-trees, to one of which he had evi- 
dently tracked some description of bird ; for he 
was looking stedfastly up into the tree, and 
barking with the utmost eagerness. I looked 
attentively, but nothing whatever could I disco- 
ver. I walked round the tree, and round again ; 
then observed the dog, whose eyes were evi- 
dently directly fixed upon the object itself; and 
still was I disappointed in perceiving nothing. 
In the meantime, the dog, working himself up 
to a pitch of impatience and violence, tore with 
his paws the trunk of the tree, and bit the rotten 
sticks and bark, jumping and springing up at 
intervals towards the game; and five minutes 
had at least elapsed in this manner, when all at 
once I saw the eye of the bird. There it sat, or 
rather stood, just where Rover pointed, in an 
attitude so perfectly still and fixed, with an out- 
stretched neck, and a body drawn out to such an 
unnatural length, that twenty times must I have 
overlooked it, mistaking it for a dead branch, 
which it most closely resembled. It was about 
twenty feet from the ground on a bough, and 
sat eight or ten feet from the body of the tree. 
I shot it, and in the course of the morning killed 
four more, which I came upon much in the same 
way as I did upon the first. At one of these, my 
gun flashed three times, without its attempting 
to move; after which I drew the charge, loaded 
again, and killed it. The dog all the time was 
barking and baying with the greatest persever- 
ance. There is, in fact, no limit to the stu- 
pidity of these creatures; and it is by no means 
unusual, on finding a whole covey on a tree in 
the Autumn, to begin by shooting the bird which 
happens to sit lowest, and then to drop the one 
above him, and so on till all are killed," 
Very different indeed from our straggling coveys, 
are the assemblages of these birds in America. 
Near FortChurchill,on the shores of Hudson's Bay, 
in the winter season, they may be seen by thou- 
sands feeding on the willow-tops peeping above 
the surface of the snow. The crew of a vessel 
wintering there, killed one thousand eighthundred 
dozen in the course of the season. They are pro- 
vided with a plumage well calculatedfor the severe 
weather to which they are exposed, each feather 
being in a manner doubled, so as to give addi- 
tional warmth. Our British Partridges huddle 
together in the stubbles; but these birds shelter 
and roost by burrowing under the snow : in 
the snow, too, they practise a common mode of 
escaping observation and pursuit, as they will 
dive under it as a Duck does in water, and rise 
at a considerable distance. The Indians, as well 
as European settlers, catch them in great abund- 
ance, in traps, and live upon them throughout 
their long winter. 

From the earliest ages, Partridges seem 
indeed to have been a favorite food, and the 
pursuit of them as favorite an amusement. In 
the Scriptures, " to hunt the Partridge on the 
mountains," is alluded to as a well-known sport; 
and to this day, though not exactly with the 
same weapon, it is practised by the Arabs of 

Mount Lebanon. They make a slight square 
frame of wood, of about five feet in height, over 
which they stretch an ox-hide, perforated in 
three or four places. The ox-hide is moved qui- 
etly, in an upright position, along the ground, 
and the Arab, concealing himself behind it, it 
is hidden from the view of the game, which un- 
suspectingly allow the sportsman to come within 
shot of them. The Arab seeing through one of 
the apertures, quietly protrudes the muzzle of 
his long musket through another hole, and firing 
upon the birds, as they feed in coveys upon the 
ground, kills a great many of them. 

In conclusion, we may remark that we 
have rarely met with a more varied and in- 
teresting book on animals than this. It 
is, and ought to be popular. 


Who is there amongst us, that can be in- 
different to the charms of Buttered Toast? Toast, 
made just as the aromatic virtues of souchong 
and hyson are becoming palpable to the olfac- 
tory organs at tea-time? Tea! why we could 
occupy a whole Journal in discoursing of thai 
social meal alone, — independent of its " ad- 
juncts." But we must confine ourselves to the 
matter before the house; and that is, toast— 
buttered toast. 

We do not advocate buttered toast for break- 
fast, unless indeed ample time be allowed for the 
proper discussion of that happy " spread." It is 
to the tea-table, par excellence, that we give it 
a hearty welcome. We begin to think of it im- 
mediately after dinner; the thoughts seldom 
wander from it till the body is travelling home- 
wards ; and when our " household gods" throw 
open wide the doors to bid us welcome — then do we 
mentally appreciate the '" coming treat in store." 
Our hat, coat, stick, or umbrella, we leave to 
some one of our rosy boys to dispose of, whilst 
we hasten to do homage to the delightful pre- 
parations of the lady of the house. We hardly 
need say, after this, that we do not dine at home ; 
but we nevertheless contrive to make a " very 
sensible meal." New-laid eggs, ham, streaky 
bacon, with tea and buttered toast — are things 
not to be slightly spoken of ! But to the grand 
subject, — Toast. 

Let us first explain what makes bad toast of a 
slice of bread, or rather what makes it no toast 
at all, but merely a piece of bread with two 
burned surfaces, more wet and waxy in the heart 
than ever, and which not a particle of butter 
will enter, but only remain on the surface, and, 
if vexed with additional fire, turns to a rancid 
oil of the most unwholesome description. If the 
slice of bread is brought into close contact with 
a strong fire, the surface becomes covered with, 
or rather converted into, charcoal, before the heat 
produces any effect upon the interior of the slice. 
This being done, the other side is turned and has 
its surface converted into charcoal, in the same 
manner. Charcoal, as everybody knows, is one 
of the worst conductors, if not the very worst 
conductor of heat; and on this account it is used 



as packing between the double cylinders of steam 
engines. It is of no consequence whether the 
said charcoal be formed of wood, of flour, or of 
any other substance, for its qualities are in every 
case the same. 

Now, when the surfaces of the slice of bread 
are over-eharred in this manner, there is an end 
of all toasting, as no action of heat can be 
communicated to the interior, and not one 
drop of water can be evaporated. In this state, 
the slice of bread may be wholly burned to char- 
coal; but until it is altogether so burned, the 
unburned part will become always more and more 
wet and unwholesome. There is an illustration 
of this in putting an onion, and more especially 
a potatoe, in the middle of a strong fire in order to 
be roasted. If the fire is but hot enough, a 
potatoe the size of one's fist may be burned down 
to a cone not bigger than a marble ; and yet that 
cone will remain hard and scarcely even 

As a rule, — if you would have a slice of bread 
so toasted as to be pleasant to the palate, and 
wholesome and easily digested, never let one 
particle of the surface be charred. Chestnut- 
brown is even far too deep for a good toast ; and 
the color of a fox is rather too deep. The nearer 
it can be kept to a straw-color, the more deli- 
cious to the taste, and the more wholesome it 
will be. The method of obtaining this is very 
obvious. It consists in keeping the bread at the 
proper distance from the fire, and exposing it to 
proper heat for a due length of time. Those who 
" make the toast," or, more strictly speaking, 
mangle it, are generally too lazy for taking- 
proper time for this operation ; and it is worthy 
of remark in many other cases, as well as in this 
one, that the hurry of laziness is the very worst 
form under which that bane of good housewifery 
can appear. This by the way. 

If not cut too thin ; if held at the proper dis- 
tance from the fire, and continued long enough, 
care being taken that not a single black or even 
dark brown spot makes its appearance on the 
surface, the slice of bread may be -toasted 
through and through; and it is this operation 
which makes properly toasted bread so much 
more wholesome than bread which is not toasted ; 
and still more preferable to bread burned on the 
surface, and sodden in the interior. By this 
means the whole of the water may be evaporated 
from it, and it may be changed from dough, 
which has always a tendency to undergo the 
acetous fermentation, whether in the stomach or 
outof it, to the pure farina of wheat, which is 
in itself one of the most wholesome species of 
food — not only for the strong and healthy, but for 
the delicate and diseased. As it is turned to 
farina, it is disintegrated ; the tough and gluey 
nature is gone ; every part can be penetrated ; all 
parts are equally warm, and no part is so warm 
as to turn the butter into oil, which, even in the 
case of the best butter, is invariably turning a 
wholesome substance into a poison. 

There is another circumstance — regarding the 
buttering of a rightly toasted slice. The dough 
being a compound of water, repels the butter, 
which is an oil ; but the dried farina acquires no 
attraction for butter, which, with very little 
exertion, penetrates the whole slice through and 

through, in all parts equally. There is more 
advantage in this than some may suppose. 
Butter in masses (whatever may be its quality), 
is too heavy for the stomach, though butter 
divided with sufficient minuteness, and not 
suffered to pass into an oil, makes a most valua- 
ble addition to many kinds of food. The properly- 
toasted slice of bread absorbs the butter, but does 
not convert it to oil; and both butter and farina 
are in a state of very minute division, the one 
serving to expose the other to the tree action of 
the gastric fluid in the stomach; and that this 
fluid shall be enabled to penetrate the whole 
mass of the food, and act upon it in very small 
portions, is the grand secret of pleasant, easy, 
and beautiful digestion; so that when a slice of 
toast is rightly prepared, there is perhaps not a 
lighter article in the whole vocabulary of 

When the toast is ready; the little ones 
quietly seated ; mamma in a good humor; papa 
cosey; and the window curtains closely drawn, — 
what can exceed the domestic delights of Tea 
and Buttered Toast! 

NATUjRE and art. 

A Comparison between Good Sense and 

" Here comes she forth, 
Teck'd in the lovely modesty of Nature."— Clare. 

Feeling that we do hold some little sway 
over the minds and better feelings of our 
fair countrywomen — whom we dearly love, 
as an Englishman should do, — we shall ven- 
ture now and then to tread on the delicate 
ground of offering them our " Advice," gra- 
tis ; it shall be none the worse on that 

We have started this, our Own Journal, 
be it remembered, under the distinct 
avowal of being " Lovers of Nature;" and we 
mean to aid her ladyship on evwy occasion. 
We all allow her, by word of mouth at least, 
to be worthy of " imitation," and every 
painter who loses sight of this, is by us 
reckoned a bad artist. The closer we keep 
to the original then, the better will it be 
for us all. 

We shall, by and by, go into the un» 
natural conventionalities of every-day life, 
and show how we all live for others, — not for 

" Sic vos non vobis," &c, 

said Virgil ; and he was right. He applied 
his remarks to the brute creation ; we apply 
ours to the genus Homo. We repeat, deny 
it who may, that society as at present con- 
stituted is entirely wmaturaL Let us, 
however, say more than this. As concerns 
".Number One," wc are resolved to live 
and Bis happy. We are not, thank God, 
altogether dependant upon the silly fashions 
which rule society at large ; we think, and 
act, for ourselves. But to return. 

"",'■" "+". V—. ' -"TTv ] 



We lately paid a visit to the Anatomical 
Museum of Dr. Kahn ; it was the very- 
week before he quitted London. We there 
saw enough to make us shudder ; nor could 
we take our leave, after being there nearly 
an entire day, without reflecting on the many 
millions of deformed, idiotic, disgusting ob- 
jects, who (though innocent) had been born, 
lived in torture, and had died — simply and 
solely from the fact of their maternal parents 
having insisted on showing (what they consi- 
dered, and we do not) A handsome figure ! 

This is no random assertion of ours. 
Very many intelligent men, fathers of fami- 
lies, were in the same room with us ; and we 
held long and interesting converse with 
them. We were all of one mind as to the 
" evil," and all equally doubtful of our ever 
being able to effect any " remedy. 1 ' Never 
shall we forget what we saw in that 
room, — never cease to shudder at the appal- 
ling thought, which yet haunts us, that the 
same evils are being perpetuated daily, and 
will be until the grave lias closed upon us 
for ever f 

It will be said, " Fie ! fie ! Mr. Editor ; this 
fashion is exploded. Our persons are now 
left free, and we can trip merrily as yourself 
over the fields, climb the hills, and romp like 
children." This has been said to us, and is 
daily ; but " we cannot see it ! " Alas, no ! 
but we must still deplore the evil, and try 
what " reasoning " will do. If Mammas 
must resemble their daughters, let it be at 
the least possible sacrifice of health for the 
sake of their posterity. And as for young 
ladies — let them, we say, be free as air, and 
play with the lissomness of kids and lambs. 
It is natural, it is graceful, it is attractive ; 
it induces health. Who would blight such 
blossoms ? 

To show that we are not " ignorant " on the 
subject of which we treat, let our readers 
peruse the subjoined remarks of Dr. L. J. 
Beale, whose heart, like our own, " beats 
high " to cure the monstrous evils of which 
we speak : — 

" Full expansion of the chest" says Dr. 
Beale, " is equally essential to health as good 
air ; for if, by our clothing or constrained 
p oisition, we impede the full expansion of the 
lungs, healthy respiration is prevented, and 
the due purification of the blood impaired ; 
and therefore, pressure from dress, bands, or 
stays, must alioays be bad. 

" How is the chest of a girl to expand 
with growth, if encased in these horrid inven- 
tions ? No girl should wear stays till she 
has long done growing, for the chest con- 
tinues to expand after growth has ceased ; 
by the use of stays the size of the chest is 
limited, and the ribs are actually forced 
to overlap, as I have seen In several in- 

" I question if any woman would really re 
quire stays before the age of 35 or 40 — the 
best figures of ancient and modem times have 
never worn any stays. We have dismissed the 


we shall succeed, sooner or later, in annihilat- 
ing stays for girls and young women. None 
ivould ivear them if they knew how much 


having been accustomed to their support, it 
is very difficult to discontinue their use, 
because the muscles of the spine having been 
superseded in their action by the barbarous 
pieces of iron, bone, or wood, of these body- 
cases, have lost their power of maintaining 
the body in an upright position ; and with- 
out stays, the deformities produced by these 
machines become visible. I hope the time 
will arrive when stays will be considered 
antiquities of the mediaeval ages, and be only 
preserved as relics to adorn the museums 
and halls of the curious." 

Dr. Beale's " hope" far exceeds our "faith." 
Let us ask, with all due submission, — Has 
not God given our countrywomen lovely 
figures ? Aye, " perfect " figures ? Why 
then do they labor so hard to deform 


If any of our fair readers will take up their 
pen to argue this matter Avith us, how happy 
shall we be to insert their remarks ! It is a 
righteous cause, and we really hope to re- 
ceive aid from those whose " duty " it is to 
defend it. 

Our next Coup d'Essai will be, touching 
" Female Apparel." We shall dare to scru- 
tinise this, onlyjas it has reference to the 
deformity of the Human Figure. Beyond 
that, it is not our province to inquire ; and 
we never exceed " our duty." Our " Extra " 
Contributor has already paved the way for 
us to follow.* 


Mr. Editor, — Though, as one of the very 
many readers of your admirable Paper, I sincerely 
sympathise with you in your ill-usage by the 
iron-hearted booksellers, I yet will not occupy 
your valuable space more than is necessary, 
while telling you of " something to your ad- 
vantage," as Joseph Ady used to word it. You 
will see by the subjoined which appeared in last 
week's Athenceum, that any number of magazines 
(the packet not exceeding 1 lb. weight) may, 
after March, go free for 6d. postage. This will 
frank your First and Second Parts to the country ; 
also your Third and Fourth, when ready. Thus 
sometimes — aye, often — does good come out of 
evil : — 

" Books and Works of Art per Post.— It 
affords us great pleasure to be able to announce 

* See Article, "Female Costume," in No. 2 of Kidd's 



that on the 1st of March additional facilities will 
be afforded by the Post Office in the transmission 
of books and works of art. Our readers are aware 
that at present only one volume is allowed to be 
sent in a single packet, and that no writing is 
permitted, except on a single page of the book. 
Both these restrictions are to be abolished ; and, 
from the day mentioned, any number of separate 
publications may be included in the same packet, 
and they may contain any amount of writing 
(provided, of course, that it be out of the nature 
of a letter); and, in fact, with this latter excep- 
tion, a person will be allowed to send by the 
book-post any quantity of paper, whether printed, 
written upon, or plain, together with all legiti- 
mate binding, mounting, or carving; including 
also, rollers in the case of prints, and, in short, 
whatever is necessary for the safe transmission 
of literary or artistic matter." — Athenccum. 

I will only add to this, — May you go on and 
prosper! You have begun well; continued 
weekly to "improve;" and every successive 
number entitles you to still higher praise. You 
have reason to feel proud of your literary off- 
spring ; and may you live to enjoy an abundant 
harvest from your labors! 

Yours, &c, 
A Lover of Fair Play. 


We were much pleased the other day, 
whilst turning carelessly over a volume 
penned by Lady Hester Stanhope, to hear 
her Ladyship thus pulverise certain of our 
community. There is a wholesomeness in 
her remarks, that charms us. We rejoice to 
find the sentiment so naively given utter- 
ance to. Lady Hester's anathemas against 
her clique, are as hearty as they are honest. 
Lea void: — 

" Oh ! how I do detest," says her Ladyship, 
" your sentimental people who pretend to be full 
of feeling! — who will cry over a worm, and yet 
treat real misfortune with neglect. There is 
your fine lady that I have seen in a dining-room, 
and when by accident an earwig has come out of 
a peach, after having been half-killed in opening 
it, she would exclaim, ' Oh, poor thing ! you 
have broken its back — do spare it — I can't bear 
to see even an insect suffer . Oh ! there, my lord, 
how you hurt it : stop, let me open the window 
and put it out.' And then the husband drawls 
out, ' My wife is quite remarkable for her sensi- 
bility ; I married her purely for that.' And then 
the wife cries, ' Oh ! now, my lord, you are too 
good to eay that : if I had not had a grain of 
feeling / should have learnt it from you.' 1 And so 
they go on, praising each other, and perhaps, 
the next morning, when she is getting into her 
carriage, a poor woman, with a child at her 
breast, and so starved that she has not a 
drop of milk, begs charity of her, and she draws 
up the glass, and tells the footman, another time, 
not to let those disgusting people stand at the 

Well done, Lady Hester Stanhope, well 
done ! ! A few such champions associated 

with our " own " Journal, would work a 
wholesome revolution throughout the empire. 
Well-aimed satire pierces through the very 
heart of humanity. — if indeed it have not on 
a coat of mail ! 


In the last No. of the Westminster Review, 
we find various curious particulars of that most 
slippery fellow, the oyster, — who glides down 
your throat before you know where he is, and 
leaves you more hungry than ever, after you 
have swallowed some three or four dozen of his 
tribe. Expensive fellow, that oyster, — very ! 

During the season of 1848-49, 130,000 bushels 
of oysters were sold in the metropolis alone. 
A million and-a-half are consumed each season 
in Edinburgh, being at the rate of more than 7,300 
a-day, and more than sixty millions are taken 
annually from the French channel banks alone. 
Each batch of oysters intended for the French 
capital is subjected to a preliminary exercise in 
keeping the shell closed at other hours than when 
the tide is out, until at length they learn by ex- 
perience that it is necessary to do so whenever they 
are uncovered by sea- water. Thus, they are en- 
abled to enter the metropolis of France as polished 
oysters ought to do, not gaping like astounded 
rustics. A London oysterman can tell the ages 
of his flock to a nicety; they are in perfection 
from five to seven years old. An oyster bears 
its years upon its back, so that its age is not to 
be learned by looking at its beard : the succes- 
sive layers observable upon the shell indicate its 
growth, as each indicates one year, so that, by 
counting them, we can tell at a glance the year 
when the creature came into the world. If an 
oyster be a handsome, well-shaped Adonis, he is 
introduced to the palaces of the rich and noble, 
like a wit, to give additional relish to their feasts. 
If a sturdy, thick-backed, strong-tasted indi- 
vidual, fate consigns him to the capacious tub of 
the street-fishmonger, from whence, dosed with 
black pepper and pungent vinegar, embalmed 
partly after the fashion of an Egyptian king, he 
is transferred to the hungry stomach of a coster- 
monger, or becomes the luxurious repast of a 
successful pickpocket. 

" Friendship" of the World.— -As we 
grow older, we begin to grow wiser. It is no 
more than right we should do so. Our Journal 
was established to make men " think," and we 
lose no opportunity of assisting in the matter. 
In presenting our readers with the following 
excellent remarks of Dr. Kitto, all we say is — 
let them be read twice, and never forgotten. 
" There has rarely yet been a man fallen," says 
Dr. Kitto, " from prosperity into trouble, who 
has not found many friends, like those of Job, 
ready to lay all the blame of his misfortunes upon 
himself, and to trace his ruin to his misconduct, 
which now becomes apparent, or which is as- 
sumed even if no trace of it can be found. Oh, 
what a world were this, if ?nan , s happiness rested 
upon the judgment of his fellows, or if the 
troubled spirit had no appeal from man's judg- 
ment to One who judgeth righteously! " 




E. R. M.— As you are a lady, we shall not presume, nor 
do we wish, to contradict you; your "reasonable" 
favor shall appear next week. Again, no address! 
still we thank you. 

"Bombyx Atlas."- Will you oblige us with your name 
and address? When these are withholden, we feel 
" quite at sea." We want to write to you, but can't! 

F. M.— Our space is so circumscribed, that "Fugitive 
Poetry" can only be admissible under very peculiar 
circumstances. We are already overwhelmed with 
similar "kind offerings." This "reply" will suffice 
for all the writers. Their favors have merit, and 
would be readily available in a Monthly Magazine. 

New Subscribers, and Casual Readers, are referred to 
the Leading Article in our First Number for the 
detailed objects of the London Journal: to these 
we shall rigidly adhere. 

Private Letters. — Of these we daily receive such 
immense quantities, that we must really beg the 
writers to excuse our not replying to them. Our time 
is more profitably occupied. All vacancies, as they are 
called, are filled up. Let this general answer suffice. 

Correspondents sending in any " facts" connected with 
Science or Natural History, are requested in every 
case to append their names and places of abode. In no 
instance, however, will their names be published with- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others.— It having been 
deemed expedient, to meet the views of the Trade, that 
this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
tion, Contributors and others will be so kind as to 
bear in mind that they must give us an extra " week's 
grace," and wait patiently till their favors appear. 

All persons who may send in MSS., but which may not 
be " accepted," are requested to preserve copies of 
them, as the Editor cannot hold himself responsible 
for their return. 

To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
need only order it to be sent to them by any of their 
local Booksellers or Newsvendors. It is published 
simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 

Saturday, February 28, 1852. 

Just in proportion as our Paper is 
winning its way into the fairest repute, as 
witness the vast number of Communications 
received from all parts daily, — are the Book- 
sellers doing everything in their power to 
keep it from rising ! The same difficulty of 
obtaining it, still exists. The same apathy 
and indifference continue everywhere ob- 
servable ; and no helping hand can we seek 
that is able to pull us through the difficulty, 
although our private friends strive mightily 
in our cause. The Booksellers will not 
keep an extra copy on hand. 

Let us merely cite one single instance, 
which will tell more of a Bookseller's supine- 
ness than anything else. A gentleman 
writes us from MANCHESTER, a few days 
since, as follows : — 

Sir, — The Liverpudlians, whom you have so 
justly tomahawked, are by no means " alone in 
their glory" with respect to the '' burkc"-iug 
of your Journal. I have contrived to get Nos, 3 
and 4; they came together! and finally, No. 5, 
last Monday ! ! ! My bookseller thought, before 
it came, it must have been discontinued, — a 
horrid " doubt" for us your admirers. I declare 
it nearly froze my heart's blood. 

This is one of a multitude of Letters^ all 
on one and the same subject. We feel jus- 
tified in speaking thus plainly, in order that 
our friends may see how we are situated. 

There is a large demand; but although 
our terms are most liberal, there is, com- 
pared with what there should be, a very 
small sale — arising solely from the cause 
above assigned. 

We have made one more effort, as will be 
seen by reference to the last column of the 
present Journal. If this fail, we have 
done all we can do under such unfairly- de- 
pressing circumstances— and " May Heaven 
defend the right /" 

" Every man has a right to do what he 
likes with ' his own ; ' " said the late worthy 
Duke of Newcastle. Who will gainsay it ? 

Acting on the principle, we have made 
this Journal more our own than ever it 
was. By referring to the First Page of the 
present Number, it. will be seen that our 
patronymic is a "vexed question" no 
longer. It is now Kidd's " Own " Journal ; 
and there exists a joint partnership between 
it and the Public 


Sagacity of a Jackdaw.—' 1 Our Jackdaw " 
has taken it into his head, that he would like to 
see his name in print; at least so I fancied 
when I saw him ogling with an envious eye 
something at page 87 of your Journal, con- 
cerning "A Raven." Perhaps I might first 
have thought I should like to see his name in 
print— and he read my thoughts? Be that as it 
may (though I believe I am right in my belief), 
I am perfectly convinced that it will in the end 
amount to the same thing. When our eyes first 
met, it was at a grocer's shop, in " Our Street." 
" Jack " took my fancy and I took his. After 
passing him several times on my way to town, 
I at last determined to possess him. No sooner 
said than done. When removing him from his 
old master, I received his assurance that " Jack " 
called " Shop," Avhich latter assertion I regard 
as a fiction, never having heard him ejaculate 
that word. Prom the very first moment of his 
installation in his new home, he evinced a most 
startling affection for the juicy legs of a member of 
the family,— viz. those of my little sister. This 
particular member he assails to the present day ; at 
the same time taking care to keep at a respect- 
ful distance, and looking just for all the world 
as if such a propensity had never entered^ his 
imagination,— for I believe he has imagina- 
tion. If you should ever chance to be in his 
company, prav discard the use of slippers; for 
should he descry even the smallest possible piece 
of stocking, he will attack that point, knowing it 
to be the tender one ; a thing which he would 
never attempt if you had on boots. Well does his 
eye know the difference between cotton and 
leather! Pie is extremely affectionate, as will 
be seen from the following circumstance. Find- 

ing the free use of his wings, which, after moult- 
ing, I omitted to clip, — he one evening took an 
airing, and flew over the house. Whither he 
went, is best known to himself! Having vainly 
searched for him for three days, I ultimately dis- 
covered that he had been in the hands of several 
persons. An omnibus conductor distinctly saw 
him assailed by numerous cats : indeed he had been 
seen by everybody; but where he was at that 
precise moment nobody knew. At last, I dis- 
covered his place of retreat. He was in a tree ! 
lie saw me from his perch, before I saw him, and 
immediately descended; still he seemed unde- 
cided whether to fly away again, or deliver him- 
self up. This last he ultimately did; — clearly 
demonstrating the preponderance of his affection 
for me over love of liberty. A more miserable 
object than he, I never beheld. He had, whether 
by a North American Indian of his tribe has 
not distinctly appeared — been divested of his 
scalp; and altogether he presented a most 
wretched appearance: yet was he penitent, 
withal; exhibiting a " never-do-it-again " cast of 
countenance, which could not be mistaken. He 
was, of course, very pleased to see me, and 
acknowledged my presence with his usual 
" Hallo !" I have as yet eulogised his good 
qualities; I must now point out his failings. Of 
these, " the sulks " or " doldrums," I am sorry 
to say, form a very prominent feature. Coming 
in rather too late to his breakfast the other morn- 
ing (for he generally takes that meal with us), 
he discovered, after going the round of the table, 
first upsetting everything in his way and then 
elongating himself to a fearful height to look into 
the large milk jug — that there was no egg in 
either of the shells which he had been scrutinis- 
ing ! Now being very fond of egg, he took this 
very much to heart, and actually sulked the 
whole day through, pecking everybody that came 
in his way. The other day, being "free and 
easy," he took a sip from every glass on the table, 
and you may readily infer that, there being a 
great many, he soon found himself off the table, 
and as the phrase goes, not only " drunk," but 
utterly "incapable." This was the signal for his 
being immediately removed and locked up for 
the night, as all " drunkards " should be. He 
slept feverishly, but a recourse to his usual habit 
of "ducking" in the morning, acted as a "re- 
fresher." He has strange notions that my rab- 
bits like nails; and he is therefore continually 
stuffing a few into the oats, and watching the 
effect. Whilst the persevering animals are en- 
deavoring to masticate them, " Jack " gives 
them sundry pecks on the nose ; and then walks 
away as if he knew nothing at all about it, and 
as if "rabbits" were quite beneath his notice. 
This hauteur he extends to sparrows, when 
desirous of catching one, in doing which I have 
never seen him succeed. If a flight of pigeons 
should happen to cross the garden, he will break 
the drum of everybody's ears with screaming, 
and scarify his own throat into the bargain. He 
once caught a mouse, the eating of which seemed 
to entirely change his nature, rendering him ex- 
ceedingly savage. I must not omit to mention, 
that he is in the habit of coming into my bedroom 
while I am washing. He will then "duck" 
himself in the very water I use myself. Again, 

he will amuse.himself for hours with the sound 
of his own voice — " giving quotations," whether 
from my brothers, or Shakspeare, I have not yet 
discovered. But, Mr. Editor, if I were to deline- 
ate every trick of this interesting little creature 
(who helps to shell the peas in summer, and to 
pick the plums in winter), I should have a long 
task. Indeed he is the most affectionate, amusing, 
extraordinary, and never to-be -forgotten animal, 
with whom I have ever had the pleasure of being 
acquainted ; and if the readers of your Journal 
will believe these statements, as sincerely as I 
know them to be true, — it is all that I desire. — 
G. S. 

Instinct in the Canary. — I find a very curious 
anecdote in the Fifeshire Journal about a Canary. 
Can you credit the circumstances as related? I 
confess / cannot. It savors too much of the 
marvellous I think for you ; — " A favorite pet 
canary, belonging to one of the servants in 
Blair Adam House, being frightened by a person 
going near its cage, made its escape from it, and 
after making a few revolutions of the room, 
darted out at the window, which chanced to be 
open at the time, and in a moment was out of 
sight, taking its flight over the top of the house, 
and of course never was expected to be seen again. 
In this its owner was agreeably mistaken ; for on 
the following morning, having been away a day 
and a night, the pet finding the change not for 
the better, made its appearance at the window 
out of which it had escaped, and was fruitlessly en- 
deavoring to gain admission, when it was caught 
and safely consigned again to its wiry prison- 
house. This is no sooner found out than it began 
to pour out notes of thankfulness, we shall sup- 
pose, for its return again to its happy home. 
What renders the circumstance more striking is, 
that it was exposed during one of the frosty 
nights we had lately; and, as the canary is a deli- 
cate bird, it is surprising how it could have sur- 
vived it.'' 

[If the above statement be true, we can only 
say the " facts " are singular. Of all birds, the 
canary is most out of its element when at liberty; 
and its return to where it flew from, would argue 
an "instinct " of which we never yet found this 
bird possessed. A Linnet or a Goldfinch would 
have shown such an instinct; but we confess 
there is a " doubt " about this canary.] 

Diseases of Canaries and their Cure.— A Corres- 
pondent, A. P., in No. 4 of your "London 
Journal/' mentions that his and his neighbor's 
bird had a complaint, well known by almost all 
who keep them — viz. hard breathing, &c. Having 
had canaries for some years, I have remarked as 
an almost invariable rule, that this (in the way 
your Correspondent mentions) is almost entirely 
confined to hens. I have very seldom known 
young birds, or cocks, to be so afflicted. Should 
they be, it is either to be traced to negligence in 
not keeping them clean, or to their having bad 
seed, water, or stale green food. But in hens, it 
is entirely different, and seems to assume a 
chronic form. After they are two or three years 
old, I have found that although kept in the same 
cage with cocks, and treated to precisely the 
same food and attention, they have become 

wheezy and ill; whilst the cocks have retained 
their good health. Constipation is the chief cause 
of this, brought on, very often, by the bad judg 
ment of the breeder. Many (particularly persons 
in the bird trade) over-task their poor birds, begiu 
ning perhaps in February and ending in Septem- 
ber. They are never content unless a hen has 4, 5, 
or 6 nests; in fact ruining their bird's consti- 
tution, and rendering many of her young that 
year, poor and weak. Then what follows? The 
hen's health is undermined ; and as the cold weather 
comes on, disease shows itself in the form of con- 
stipation, wheezing, &c. which, if they do not 
kill, make it quite distressing to keep them. I 
know a man who had no fewer than 6 nests and 
2 1 birds from one pair ; but then he was a dealer, 
and cared not what became of the hen. Next 
year he mended her up for the time being, sold 
her, and let some poor unlucky buyer try his 
skill in curing the disease which he had sown! 
In my experience, I have found the remedies 
mentioned by you, greatly relieve all sufferers, — 
particularly boiled milk, and bread and milk 
(without moist sugar, which many parties are in 
the habit of using.) Warmth, I may say, is the 
main thing ; and in the freshness of spring, some 
hens will rally up and breed pretty well; but 
they are mostly troubled with an habitual con- 
stipation. I may here state, that I hope each 
" Fancier" who is skilled in the different subjects 
that appear; will contribute his stock of know- 
ledge to the public fund; and hearing that you 
intend bringing out, in your paper, your original 
popular treatises on "British Song Birds," I 
trust as chapter after chapter come out, they will 
cause such a discussion on what each has ex- 
perienced, among " Professors," as will at once 
render " Kidd's Journal " interesting, instruc- 
tive and indispensable to the Lovers and Keepers 
of Pets and Cage Birds. — E. C, Liverpool. 

An Ailing Goldfinch — My pet Goldfinch has 
been suffering severely from illness, which has 
caused his plumage to suffer much damage. How 
shall I act, to restore its beauty? I have also a 
number of Canaries, from which I purpose breed- 
ing. Please, also, to give me all needful instruc- 
tions about this. — E. T. H. 

[As your Goldfinch gains strength, let him oc- 
casionally fly about your room, first placing a 
wire-guard before the stove to prevent his de- 
struction by fire. Give him some watercress, 
also a hemp-seed or two, and let him bask in the 
sun as much as possible. We shall have "lots " 
to say about breeding canaries, by and by. All 
yet is in good time.] 

Nightingales and Robins. — My old Nightin- 
gales, strange to say, are not yet in song* I 
really do think a good frost, at this season, would 
bring them out — especially as the sun now shines 
brightly* The habits of these birds much re- 
semble those of the robin, and he* we know, al- 
ways sings best and loudest in frosty weather. 
In connection with this, I will mention what to 
you may be an interesting circumstance. About 
three years ago, a boy brought to my servant 
some nightingales' eggs. There being the nest 
of a robin in the garden, I immediately changed 
the eggs: on the very day after, they hatched! 

For a whole week the youngbirds were proceeding 
admirably, when a brute of a cat [it seems all 
tell "one tale" about this ill-fed, half-starved, 
" wandering minstrel "] took the whole nest at 
once ! I cannot help thinking that this would be 
the most efficacious mode of rearing nightingales 
with the least trouble. — J. B. 

[You are quite right about the Robin ; of all af- 
fectionate, domestic, loveable " dears " this is 
the one above the rest. It will feed, even in 
confinement, the young of any birds, as we have 
experienced often to our infinite delight. We 
shall record all this in due season.] 

Cats regarded as "Vermin." — The public are 
indeed largely indebted to you, Mr. Editor, for 
so kindly coming forward to deliver them from 
the army of mischievous cats, who nightly com- 
mit such havoc upon our gardens, our pantries, 
and, in the season, upon our chickens and other 
live stock. Surely, if these animals were better 
fed, and better attended to, they would never 
stray as they do to such long distances. No 
person would wantonly destroy any of them, but, 
in self-preservation, they must in some way be got 
rid of; and your remedy is a very simple one, 
as it is unattended by pain or suffering. I have 
already disposed of nine, and my pigeons are all 
the happier for it. — Yours obliged, I. P., Tot- 

[The above is one of so very many communi- 
cations received on a similar subject, that we 
really are pleased to have been " useful " in this 
matter. Our w ell-known disposition, and love of 
animals, quite shelter us from the charge of cruelty 
as regards Cats. We only wish we could visit 
the offences of these poor creatures upon those 
who are the cause of their offending, and conse- 
quent punishment. The fact is patent, that on 
an average every house contains three cats. What, 
let us ask, can be the use of these? and what is 
the consequence of it? The presence of one 
single cat will suffice to keep all mice at bay ; the 
excess of cats, therefore, is useless, and a public 
nuisance. That cats are, for the most part, 
half-starved, is too well known to be contradicted; 
a " dab " of cat's meat, transfixed on a long 
skewer, and the value of one half-penny, generally 
sufficing for the whole lot ! This is, we are told, 
" to make them sharp, and cause them to get 
their own livelihood." Exactly so, and this is 
why these poor animals stray so far into their 
neighbors' grounds to steal what they can in 
the way of cold meat, chickens, rabbits, &c. We 
have, ere now, had the " morbid satisfaction " of 
seeing a large cat disappear over our own lofty wall 
— made lofty by us on purpose to shut these vermin 
out — with a valuable live chicken in her mouth ; 
and this act has been repeated, by the same cat, 
five tinies in a single fortnight ! We sent in to 
the neighbor who owned the cat, and very ci- 
villy requested it might be kept at home, or Ave 
should be under the necessity of shooting it. The 

reply Was — "Blaze away, and— !" We 

suppress the finale. We did not " blaze away; " 
but we were compelled to " remove " the cat. 
We feel quite sure that if cats were properly fed 
and attended to, like other animals, they would 
not stray away; neither should we be obliged to 
lie awake all night to listen to their nocturnal 



music ( ! ). While on this subject, let us also call 
attention to the inhumanity of those who keep 
dogs. The same " vulgar error" prevails, that 
these poor creatures should only be fed once a day, 
and then, how sparingly ! What is the conse- 
quence? The pangs of hunger seize them; they 
bark furiously all day, and howl throughout the 
entire night. Such barbarities as these are 
monstrous. We are doomed to listen to these 
sounds, every night of our lives! We shall im- 
mediately commence an article on " Cruelty to 
Animals," and see if we cannot shame people out 
of such evil, such diabolical practices. Then 
will our " Own " Journal not have been brought 
forward in vain. We have said before, and we 
again repeat it, it is positively sinful for any 
person to keep dumb animals, without attending 
to all their wants and necessities. We see, daily, 
so very much cruelty of this kind practised, 
that our pen refuses to lie quiet under it, and 
we have no wish to coerce it.] 

Breeding of Canaries. — Having a lot of very 
valuable canaries, among which are the Jonques, 
and not thoroughly understanding their proper 
management, I kindly ask your assistance in 
instructing me in the art of breeding, rearing, 
and keeping in health these beautiful little crea- 
tures, as they are so much more delicate than the 
common sort. What month do you advise me 
to put them together ? and how shall I feed them ? 
Mine are the only Jonque canaries I have ever 
seen in our part of the country, and therefore 
the breeding of them is quite a mystery. — 
A. R. P. 

[We shall pen an article on this subject, very 
shortly. There is yet plenty of time.] 

A Terrier Dog troubled with Worms. — My 
" pet '' terrier is sadly troubled with worms, and 
I know not what to give him. Will you kindly 
prescribe, and make me your debtor in the article 
of gratitude? — J. M. 

[All medicines, properly so called, are ob- 
jectionable; but there is one method of expelling 
worms from the intestines of a dog that is almost 
infallible. This is, the administration of glass 
finely powdered. Not a particle of it can pene- 
trate through the mucus that lines the bowels, 
while it destroys every intestinal worm. The 
powdered glass should be made into a ball, with 
lard and ginger.] 

Grey Parrot with Bad Habits. — I have a grey 
parrot (presumed to be African) which, being a 
great favorite, I am very desirous of improving in 
its personal appearance, which at present is any- 
thing but prepossessing. It is now, and has been 
for the last ten years, almost destitute of feathers, 
from its constant habit of plucking them as they 
appear. Could you suggest a method of cure ? 
— M. T. H. 

[If bitter aloes, rubbed over the bald places, 
does not cure this malady, it would be charita- 
ble to kill " poor Polly " at once, — would it not ? 
This fault is peculiar to parrots, -—a branch of 
the animal creation for which we have no parti- 
cular fancy. They are never well, and seldom 

Fruitful Eggs of Fowl and other Poultry. — Is 
it yet known, whether it be possible to ascertain 
by the microscope, or otherwise, the fact of an 
egg being fertile ? There is so much " said," pro 
and con, about this, and nothing satisfactory 
"known," that I feel anxious to have your 
opinion. — Walter. 

[Mr. Boccius has lately used a microscope at 
Worcester, and seen some millions of eggs in an 
eel's ovary (at least, so he " says ") ; but we 
have no faith in microscopes applied for any such 
purposes, and one single " fact " goes further 
with us than the " wide range." We believe 
no person living can satisfactorily determine 
which is, or which is not, a fruitful egg,— either 
by the touch, the sight, the weight, the size, the 
form ; or the chemical appearance viewed by the 
aid of the strongest gas light. However, hav- 
ing put the question, let us hear what there is to 
be said about it, — leaving the " microscope" quite 
out of sight!] 

The Guinea-pig. — Is the guinea-pig at all 
useful in keeping vermin away from rabbit- 
houses ? [not that Ave are aware of]. And what 
is best to feed them on ? — F. M. 

[These little fellows are very hearty, and will 
eat anything, — oats, hay, bread and milk, &c. 
If allowed their liberty, they never ail anything, 
and will " multiply exceedingly." We once had 
a pair running about our house, — that pair soon 
became some other " half-a-dozen pairs."] 



" I'M desperately afear'd, Sue, that that 
brother of thine will turn out a jackanapes," 
was the apostrophe of the good yeoman, 
Michael Howe, to his pretty daughter, Susan, 
as they were walking one fine afternoon in 
harvest through some narrow and richly 
wooded lanes, which wound between the 
crofts of his farm of Rutherford West, 
situate in that out-of-the-way part of Berk- 
shire which is emphatically called the " Low 
Country " — for no better reason that I can 
discover, than that it is the very hilliest part 
of the royal county. " I'm sadly afear'd, 
Sue, that he'll turn out a jackanapes !" and 
the stout farmer brandished the tall paddle 
which served him at once as a walking- 
stick and a weeding-hook, and began vigor- 
ously eradicating the huge thistles which 
grew by the roadside, as a mere vent for his 
vexation. " You'll see that he'll come back 
an arrant puppy !" quoth Michael Howe. 

" Oh, father ! don't say so," rejoined Susan ; 
" why should you think so hardly of poor 
William — our own dear William, whom we 
have not seen these three years ? What 
earthly harm has he done?" 

" Harm, girl ! Look at his letters ! You 
know you're ashamed yourself to take 'em 
of the postman. Pink paper, forsooth, and 
blue ink, and a seal with bits of make-be- 

lieve gold, speckled about in it like a lady- 
bird's wings — I bate all make-believes, all 
shams ; they're worse than poison ; and 
stinking of some outlandish scent, so that 
I'm forced to smoke a couple of pipes extra 
to get rid of the smell ; and latterly, as if 
this folly was not enough, he has crammed 
these precious scrawls into a sort of paper- 
bag, pasted together just as if o' purpose to 
make us pay double postage. Jackanapes 
did I call him? He's a worse mollycot than 
a woman." 

" Dear father, all young men will be 
foolish one way or another ; and you know 
my uncle says, that William is Avonderfully 
steady for so young a man, and his master 
is so well pleased with him, that he is now 
foreman in his great concern. You must 
pardon a little nonsense in a country youth, 
thrown suddenly into a fine shop, in the 
gayest part of London, and with his god- 
father's legacy coming unexpectedly upon 
him, and making him too rich for a journey- 
man tradesman. But he's coming to see us 
now. He would have come six months ago, 
as soon as he got this money, if his master 
could have spared him ; and he'll be wiser 
before he goes back to London." 

" Not he. Hang Lunnon ! Why did he 
go to Lunnon at all ? Why could he not stop 
at Rutherford, like his father and his father's 
father, and see to the farm ? What business 
had he in a great shop ? a man-mercer's they 


call it. What call had he to Lunnon, I 
Tell me that, Miss Susan." 

" Why, dear father, you know very well 
that when Master George Arnot was so 
unluckily obstinate about the affair of the 
watercourse, and would go to law witli you, 
and swore that instead of marrying William, 
poor Mary should be married to the rich 
maltster, old Jacob Giles, William, who had 
loved Mary ever since they were children 
together, could not bear to stay in the 
country, and went off to my uncle, forbid - 
ing me ever to mention her name in a letter ; 
and so " 

" Well, well," rejoined the father, somewhat 
softened, "but he need not have turned 
puppy and coxcomb because he was crossed 
in love. Pshaw ! " added the good farmer, 
giving a mighty tug with his paddle at a 
tough mullein, which happened to stand in 
his way, " I was crossed in love myself, in 
my young days, but I did not run off and 
turn tailor. I made up plump to another 
wench — your poor mother, Susan, that's 
dead and gone — and carried her off like a 
man ; married her in a month, girl ; and 
that's what Will should have done. I'm 
afear'd we shall find him a sad jackanapes. 
Jem Hathaway, the gauger, told me last 
market-day, that he saw him one Sunday in 
the what-dye-call't — the Park there, covered 

with rings, and gold chains, and fine velvets 
— all green and gold, like our great peacock. 
Well, we shall soon see. He comes to- 
night, you say ? Tis not above six o'clock 
by the sun, and the Wantage coach don't 
come in till seven. Even if they lend him a 
horse and cart at the Nag's Head, he can't 
be here these two hours. So I shall just 
see the ten- acre field cleared, and be home 
time enough to shake him by the hand if he 
comes like a man, or to kick him out of 
doors if he looks like a dandy." And off 
strode the stout yeoman in his clouted shoes, 
his leather gaiters, and smock-frock, and a 
beard (it was Friday) of six days' growth ; 
looking altogether prodigiously like a man 
who would keep his word. 

Susan, on her part, continued to thread 
the narrow winding lanes that led towards 
Wantage ; walking leisurely along, and 
forming as she went, half unconsciously, a 
nosegay of the wild flowers of the season; 
the delicate hare -bell, the lingering wood- 
vetch, the blue scabious, the heaths which 
clustered on the bank, the tall graceful lilac 
campanula, the snowy bells of the bindweed, 
the latest briar-rose, and that species of 
clematis, which, perhaps, because it generally 
indicates the neighborhood of houses, has 
won for itself the pretty name of the travel- 
ler's joy ; whilst that loveliest of wild flowers, 
whose name is now sentimentalised out of 
prettiness, the intensely blue forget-me-not, 
was there in rich profusion. 

Susan herself was not unlike her posy ; 
sweet and delicate, and full of a certain 
pastoral grace. Her light and airy figure 
suited well with a fair mild countenance, 
breaking into blushes and smiles when she 
spoke, and set off by bright ringlets of golden 
hair, parted on her white forehead, and 
hanging in long curls on her finely rounded 
cheeks. Always neat, but never fine; 
gentle, cheerful, and modest, it would be 
difficult to find a prettier specimen of an 
English farmer's daughter, than Susan 
Hosve. But just now the little damsel wore 
a look of care not usual to her fair and 
tranquil features ; she seemed, as she was, 
full of trouble. 

"Poor William!" so ran her thoughts, 
" my father would not even listen to his last 
letter, because it poisoned him with musk. 
I wonder that William can like that dis- 
agreeable smell! and he expects him to 
come down on the top of the coach, instead 
of which, he says, that he means to pur- 
chase a — a — (even in her thoughts poor 
Susan could not master the word, and was 
obliged to have recourse to the musk- 
scented billet), britschka— ay, that's it !—■ or a 
droschky; I wonder what sort of things 
they are — and that he only visits us en pas- 
sant in a tour, for which, town being so 



empty, and business slack, his employer has 
given him leave, and in which he is to be 
accompanied by his friend Monsieur Victor 
— Victor — I can't make out his other name 
— an eminent perfumer, who lives next door. 
To think of bringing a Frenchman here, 
remembering how my father hates the whole 
nation. Oh dear, dear ! And yet 1 know 
William. I know why he went, and I do 
believe, in spite of a little finery and foolish- 
ness, and of all the britschkas, and drosch- 
kies, and Victors, into the bargain that 
he'll be glad to get home again. No place 
like home ! Even in these silly notes, that 
feeling is always at the bottom. Did not I 
hear a carriage before me? Yes — no — I 
can't tell. One takes everything for the 
sound of wheels when one is expecting a 
dear friend. And if we can but get him to 
look, as he used to look, and to be what he 
used to be, he won't leave us again for all the 
fine shops in Regent Street, nor all the 
britschkas and droschkies in Christendom, 
My father is getting old now, and William 
ought to stay at home," thought the affec- 
tionate sister; "and I firmly believe that 
what he ought to do, he will do. Besides 
which — surely there is a carriage now." 

Just as Susan arrived at this point of her 
cogitations, that sound which had haunted 
her imagination all the afternoon, the sound 
of wheels rapidly advancing, became more 
and more audible, and was suddenly suc- 
ceeded by a tremendous crash, mixed with 
men's voices — one of them her brother's 
— venting in two languages (for Monsieur 
Victor, whatever might be his proficiency 
in English, had recourse in this emergency 
to his native tongue), the different ejacula- 
tions of anger and astonishment which are 
pretty sure to accompany an overset; and 
on turning a corner of the lane, Susan caught 
her first sight of the britschka or droschky, 
whichever it might be, that had so much 
puzzled her simple comprehension, in the 
shape of a heavy-looking open carriage, 
garnished with head and apron, lying pro- 
strate against a gate-post, of which the 
wheels had fallen foul. Her brother was 
fully occupied in disengaging the horses 
from the traces, in reprimanding his com- 
panion for his bad driving, which he de- 
clared had occasioned the accident, and in 
directing him to go for assistance to a cot- 
tage half a mile back on the road to Want- 
age, whilst he himself intimated his inten- 
tion of proceeding for more help to the farm; 
and the obedient Frenchman, who, notwith- 
standing the derangement which his coiffure 
might naturally be expected to have ex- 
perienced from his tumble, looked, Susan 
thought, as if his hair were put in paper 
every night, and pomatumed every morning, 
and as if his whole dapper person were 

saturated with his own finest essences — a 
sort of travelling perfumer's shop, a peripa- 
tetic pouncet-box — walked off in the direc- 
tion indicated, with an air of habitual submis- 
sion, which showed pretty plainly that, 
whether as proprietor of the unlucky britsch- 
ka, or from his own force of character, 
William was considered as the principal 
director of the present expedition. 

Having sent his comrade off, William 
Howe, leaving his steeds quietly browsing 
by the way-side, bent his steps towards 
home. Susan advanced rapidly to meet him; 
and, in a few seconds, the brother and sister 
were in each other's arms ; and, after most 
affectionate greetings, they sat down, by 
mutual consent, upon a piece of felled tim- 
ber which lay upon the bank — the lane on 
one side being bounded by an old coppice — 
and began to ask each other the thousand 
questions so interesting to the children of 
one house, who have been long parted. 

Seldom, surely, has the rough and rugged 
bark of an unhewn elm had the honor of 
supporting so perfect an exquisite. Jem 
Hathaway, the exciseman, had in nothing 
exaggerated the magnificence of our young 
Londoner. From shoes which looked as if 
they had come from Paris in the ambassador's 
bag, to the curled head, and the whiskered 
and mustachioed countenance (for the hat, 
which should have been the crown of the 
finery, was wanting — probably, in conse- 
quence of the recent overturn), from top to 
toe he looked fit for a ball at Almack's, 
or a fete at Bridgew T ater House : and, oh ! 
how unsuited to the old-fashioned home- 
stead at Rutherford W r est ! His lower ap- 
pointments, hose and trousers, were of the 
finest woven silk ; his coat was claret color, 
of the latest cut ; his waistcoat — talk of the 
great peacock, he would have seemed dingy 
and dusky beside such a splendor of color ! 
— his waistcoat literally dazzled poor Susan's 
eyes ; and his rings, and chains, and studs, 
and brooches, seemed, to the wondering 
girl, almost sufficient to stock a jeweller's 

In spite of all this nonsense, it was clear 
to her, from every look and word, that she 
was not mistaken in believing William un- 
changed in mind and disposition, and that 
there was a warm and a kind heart beating 
under the finery. Moreover, she felt that 
if the unseemly magnificence could once 
be thrown aside, the whiskers and mustachios 
cleared away, and his fine manly person 
re-instated in the rustic costume in which 
she had been accustomed to see him, her 
brother would then appear greatly improved 
in face and figure, taller, more vigorous, and 
with an expression of intelligence and frank- 
ness delightful to behold. But how to get 
quit of the finery, and the Frenchman, and 

the britsehka? Or how reconcile her father 
to iniquities so far surpassing even the 
smell of musk ? 

. William, on his part, regarded his sister 
with unqualified admiration. He had left a 
laughing, blooming girl ; he found a deli- 
cate and lovely young woman — all the more 
lovely for the tears that mingled with her 
smiles, true tokens of a most pure affection. 
" And you really are glad to see me Susy? 
And my father is well ? And here is the old 
place, looking just as it used to do ; house, 
and ricks, and barnyard, not quite in sight, 
but one feels that one shall see them at the 
next turning — the great coppice, right 
opposite, looking thicker and greener than 
ever. How often have we gone nutting in 
that coppice ! — the tall holly at the gate, 
with the woodbine climbing up and twisting 
its sweet garlands round the very topmost 
spray, like a coronet. Many a time and 
often have I climbed the holly to twine 
the flaunting wreath round your straw- 
bonnet, Miss Susy. And here, on the other 
side of the hedge, is the very field where 
Hector and Harebell ran their famous 
course, and gave their hare fifty turns be- 
fore they killed ( her, without ever letting 
her get out of the stubble. Those were 
pleasant days, Susan, after all ! V 
"Happy days, dear William!" 
" And we shall go nutting again, shall we 

" Surely, dear brother ! Only ~" and 

Susan suddenly stopped. 
" Only what, Miss Susy ? n 
" Only I don't see how you can possibly 
go into the copse in this dress. Think how 
the brambles would prick and tear, and how 
that chain would catch in the hazel stems ! 
And as to climbing the holly-tree in that 
fine tight coat, or beating the stubble for a 
hare in those delicate thin shoes, why the 
thing is out of the question. And I really 
don't believe," continued Susan, finding it 
easier to go on than to begin, " I really don't 
believe that either Hector or Harebell 
would know you, if they saw you so decked 

William laughed outright. 
" I don't mean to go coursing in these 
shoes, I assure you, Susy. This is an evening 
dress. I have a shooting-jacket, and all 
thereunto belonging, in the britschka, which 
will not puzzle either Harebell or Hector, 
because it's just what they have been used 
to see me wear.'' 

" Put it on then, I beseech you," exclaimed 
Susy ; " put it on directly." 

" Why, I am not going coursing this even- 

" No — but my father ! Oh, dear William, 
if you did but know how he hates finery, 
and foreigners, and whiskers, and britschkas ! 

Oh, dear William, send off the French gen- 
tleman and the outlandish carriage — run into 
the coppice and put on the shooting-dress." 

" Oh, Susan," began William ; but Susan 
having once summoned up courage sufficient 
to put her remonstrances into words, fol- 
lowed up the attack with an earnestness 
that did not admit a moment's interruption. 

" My father hates finery even more than 
either Harebell or Hector would do. You 
know his country notions, dear William ; 
and I think that latterly he has hated every- 
thing that looks Londonish and new-fangled, 
worse than ever. We are old-fashioned 
people at Eutherford. There's your pretty 
old friend, Mary Arnott, can't abide gew- 
gaws any more than my father." 

" Mary Arnott ! You mean Mrs. Giles. 
What do I care for her likes and dislikes ?" 
exclaimed William, haughtily. 

" I mean Mary Arnott, and not Mrs. 
Giles, and you do care for her likes and dis- 
likes a great deal," replied his sister with 
some archness. " Poor Mary, when the 
week before that fixed for the wedding 
arrived, felt that she could not marry Master 
Jacob Giles ; so she found an opportunity 
of speaking to him alone, and told him the 
truth. I even believe, although I have no 
warrant for saying so, that she confessed she 
could not love him, because she loved 
another. Master Giles behaved like a wise 
man, and told her father that it would be 
very wrong to force her inclinations. He 
behaved kindly as well as wisely ; for he 
endeavoured to reconcile all parties, and put 
matters in train for the wedding that had 
hindered his. This, at that time, Master 
Arnott would not hear of, and therefore we 
did not tell you that the marriage, which 
you took for granted, had gone off. Till 
about three months ago, that odious law- 
suit was in full action, and Master Arnott as 
violently set against my father as ever. 
Then, however, he was taken ill, and, upon 
his death-bed, he sent for his old friend, 
begged his pardon, and appointed him 
guardian to Mary. And there she is at 
home — for she would not come to meet you 
— but there she is, hoping to find you just 
what you were when you went away, and 
hating Frenchmen, and britschkas, and finery, 
and the smell of musk, just as if she were 
my father's daughter in good earnest. And 
now, dear William, I know what has been 
passing in your mind, quite as well as if 
hearts were peep-shows, and one could see 
to the bottom of them at the rate of a penny 
a look. I know that you went away for 
love of Mary, and flung yourself into the 
finery of London to try to get rid of the 
thought of her, and came down with all 
this nonsense of britschkas, and whiskers, 
and waistcoats, and rings, just to show h er 



what a beau she had lost in losing you : did 
not you now? Well, don't stand squeezing 
my hand, but go and meet your French 
friend, who" has got a man, I see, to help to 
pick up the fallen equipage. Go and get 
rid of him," quoth Susan. 

"How can I?" exclaimed William, in 
laughing perplexity. 

" Give him the britschka," responded his 
sister, " and send them off together as fast 
as may be. That will be a magnificent fare- 
well. And then take your portmanteau into 
the copse, and change all this trumpery for 
the shooting : jacket and its belongings ; and 
come back and let me trim these whiskers 
as closely as scissors can trim them, and 
then we'll go to the farm, to gladden the 
hearts of Harebell, Hector, my dear father, 
and — somebody else ; and it will not be that 
somebody's fault if ever you go to London 
again, or get into a britschka, or put on a 
chain, or a ring, or write with blue ink 
upon pink paper, as long as you live. Now 
go and dismiss the Frenchman," added Susan, 
laughing, " and we'll walk home together 
the happiest brother and sister in Chris- 


The value of an easy manner and courte- 
ous address is not by any means sufficiently 
estimated among us. Proud of his political 
independence and his republican rights, the 
citizen is very apt to carry his notions of 
personal privileges to an improper extent ; 
especially in the smaller matters of the 
social circle, as well as in the details of 

Two young men shall commence life to- 
gether, equal in circumstances — both being 
destitute of means — but the one full of talent, 
abundant in resources, and apt in business, 
conceited of his own "reserved rights," and 
not easy in his manner, or happy in placing 
others at ease. The other, not above, if 
even up to mediocrity, not especially gifted 
with business talent, but still ready in adapt- 
ing himself to those he meets, and felicitous 
in his address. Now, let us see how they 
get on. We will call one Manners and the 
other Independence. 

Manners is a clever, civil, and obliging 
fellow, disposed to pratify. He steps up to 
you with a bow and a smile, and wishes to 
know how he can serve you. He is ready 
to give up his seat to a lady ; even to stand 
behind her bonnet, at a concert, if necessity 

Independence is a stiff, upright, angular 
gentleman, who waits to be spoken to, and 
then answers or not, as the humor takes him ; 
he yields with a bad grace to solicitation, 

and robs a kind act of its merit by the man- 
ner of doing it. His independence is always 
rubbing against somebody else's inde- 
pendence, and society seems as if man- 
kind had been made square instead of round, 
and in a crowd were perpetually chafing 
their sharp corners ! He returns your 
salute with a gruff air, and walks about 
with his back to the fire and his legs 

Manners is a neat, dapper, brisk body, 
that has a joke for one, a song for another, 
and a " how are you" for every body — he 
looks about as he walks, notices his acquain- 
tances, returns their bows, and occasionally 
calls to see them. He won't endorse, but 
declines by a polite excuse ; and can't afford 
to lend, but makes the borrower feel his 
regret by his kindness of reply. Occasionally 
he beaus a lady, and is not very much afraid 
of old maids, or young children. 

Independence is a surly, honest, rough, 
loud voiced chap, that laughs at no jokes 
but his own, and don't care whether he 
speaks or is spoken to ; he owes nobody any 
thing and depends on himself for amuse- 
ment. Let any body ask him to endorse ! 
He never borrows, and won't lend ; and con- 
siders a request for a loan as a species of 
pickpocketing. Yet he has been known to 
give handsomely unto the distressed, and 
even to forgive a debt. He won't play 
porter or post-office for any body, and hates 
bandbox as he does Satan. He considers 
children as small nuisances requisite to 
supply the world with population ; and if he 
ever does get married, intends to insure him- 
self against paternity. 

Such are the twain, and so they go 
through the world, both often successful, and 
both respected — the one liked and popular, 
the other feared and avoided. Great phi- 
losophy was there in the scissor-grinder's 
proverb, as applied to success in life, — 
" Sweet oil and perseverance conquer every 
tiling." —Brother Jonathan. 


The sun, at length, went down behind the 
Aiguille du Goute, and then, for two hours, a 
scene of such wild and wondrous beauty — of 
such inconceivable and unearthly splendor — 
burst upon me, that spell-bound and almost 
trembling with the emotion its magnificence 
called forth — with every sense, and feeling, and 
thought absorbed by its brilliancy, I saw far 
more than the realisation of the most gorgeous 
visions that opium or hasheesh could evoke, ac- 
complished. At first everything about us — above, 
around, below — the sky, the mountain, and the 
lower peaks — appeared one uniform creation of 
burnished gold; so brightly dazzling that, now 
our veils were removed, the eye could scarcely 
bear the splendor. 

As the twilight gradually crept over the lower 



world, the glow became still more vivid; and 
presently, as the blue mists rose in the valleys, 
the tops of the higher mountains looked like 
islands rising from a filmy ocean — an archipe- 
lago of gold. By degrees this metallic lustre 
was softened into tints, — first orange, and then 
bright transparent crimson, along the horizon, 
rising through the different hues with prismatic 
regularity, until, immediately above us, the sky 
was a deep pure blue, merging towards the east 
into glowing violet. 

The snow took its color from these changes ; 
and every portion on which the light fell was 
soon tinged with pale carmine, of a shade similar 
to that which snow at times assumes, from some 
imperfectly explained cause, at high elevations — • 
such, indeed, as I had seen, in early summer, 
upon the Furka and Faulhorn. These beautiful 
hues grew brighter as the twilight below in- 
creased in depth ; and it now came marching up 
the valley of the glaciers until it reached our 
resting-place. Higher and higher still, it drove 
the lovely glory of the sunlight before it, until 
at last the vast Dome du Goute and the summit 
itself stood out, ice-like and grim, in the cold 
evening air, although the horizon still gleamed 
with a belt of rosy light. — Albert Smith. 

The Dearest. 

(A Sonnet.) 

Oh! that from far-away mountains 

Over the restless waves, 

Where bubble enchanted fountains, 

Rising from jewelled caves — 

I could call a fairy bird, 

Who, whene'er thy voice was heard, 

Should come to thee, dearest ! 

He should have violet pinions, 

And a beak of silver white; 

And should bring from the sun's dominions, 

Eyes that would give thee light. 

Thou should'st see that he was born 

In a land of gold and morn — 

To be thy servant, dearest! 

Oft should he drop on thy tresses 

A pearl, or diamond stone, 

And would yield to thy light caresses, 

Blossoms in Eden grown. 

Round thy path, his wings would shower 

Now a gem and now a flower, 

And dewy odors, dearest ! 

He should fetch from his eastern island 
The songs that the Peris sing ; 
And when evening's clear and silent, 
Spells to thy ear would bring — 
And with his mysterious strain 
Would entrance thy weary brain, 
Love's own music, dearest ! 

No Phoenix, alas ! will hover, 
Sent from the morning star ; 
And thou must take of thy lover 
A gift not brought so far; 
Wanting bird, and gem, and song, 
Ah! receive and treasure long 
A heart that loves thee — dearest ! 


A List of Country Agents. 

Brighton ... 
Bradford ... 
Carlisle ... 




Coventry ... 

Doncaster ... 



Durham ... 


Glasgow ... 



Lancaster ... 
Liverpool ... 


Plymouth ... 
Rochdale ... 
Shcerness ... 
South Shields 
Stafford ... 
Sheffield ... 
Taunton ... 



Guest; Watts. 


Mrs. Bingham. 




Smith & Co. 

Nolan, 32, Bachelor's-walk. 

D. Green ; Fisher, 
/A. Hey wood; Lewis. 
(A. J. Heywood ; Dixon. 

Lamb and Heald. 


The difficulties of establishing a New Periodical are so 
very great, without the active co-operaticn of the Book- 
sellers and Newsvendors in the provincial towns, that 
the Proprietor specially craves their kind assistance in 
bringing forward " Kidd's Journal." 

This little Publication addresses itself, from the peculi- 
arity and interest of its Contents, to every Respectable 
Family in the Kingdom; also to the Heads of schools, 
and to Public Establishments generally. 

A Single Number, or at all events, a Single Part of 
the " Journal," would enable a Bookseller to form a very 
correct judgment as to its eligibility for an extensive 
Sale ; if once fairly brought before the Public. 

P.S. All " Orders" are to be addressed to Mr. George 
Berger, 19, Holywell-street, Strand, London; who will 
be happy to supply applicants on advantageous terms. 

*** Any party ordering two dozen of the current week's 
No., may have his name inserted in this List. 

To the Readers of " Kidd's Journal." 


but, gentle reader, did you ever know a young 
lady who was too weak to stand up during 
prayer-time at church, who could not dance the 
whole night through, without being at all tired? 


London : Published by George Berger, 19, Holywell 
Street, Strand (to whom ael Letters and Communica- 
tions, Sealed and Addressed to" the Editor," and Books 
for Review, are to be forwarded) ; and Procurable, 
by order, of every Bookseller and Newsvendor in the 

London ; M. S. Myers, Printer, 22, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 


Conducted by WILLIAM KIDD, of Hammersmith,— 

Author of the Familiar and Popular Essays on "Natural History;" "British Song 

Birds;" "Birds of Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" 

" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c. 


No. 10.— 1852. 


Price l$d. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price 7 



"We will take upon ourselves the full re- 
ponsibility of the remark, that all our readers 
are glad to have bid adieu to February. 
A month has it been of sickness, illness, 
death. We have ourselves been sorely in- 
disposed for some weeks, — indeed all but at 
death's door ; although necessitated to keep 
moving, and venture abroad to fulfil our 
prescribed needful duties. With the coming 
season, we raise our drooping heads. 

We have had heavy rains, and lots of 
them. Wind too has done its work, and 
laid waste all before it. Scenes on shore, 
and scenes at sea have been recorded, that 
cause the heart to feel faint. We have sel- 
dom perused such and so many sickening 
accounts of lives sacrificed, in any February 
of preceding years. Let us strive to forget 
what we have heard, and live for the future. 
Fog and damp we throw in, without com- 

We imagine the heavy rains are nearly 
over ; not so the cold bracing air ; nor the 
biting blasts from the keen East. These 
we feel, and must feel for many weeks to 
come. But these are endurable, and keep 
us on the healthy trot : — 

Close crowds the shining atmosphere; and 

Our strengthened bodies in its cold embrace, 
Constringent; feeds and animates our blood, 
Refines our spirits, through the new-strung nerves 
In swifter sallies darting to the brain ; 
Where sits the soul intense, collected, cool, 
Bright as the skies and as the season keen. 
All nature feels the renovating force 
Of Winter.— 

All who would be well, young people as 
well as older folk, should make a point of 
walking out daily for at least one hour. It 
is as much a " duty," as is any other matter 
of daily performance. Want of circulation 
is what destroys the happiness of half our 

homes. People are always ailing, and crowd- 
ing round large fires, when they ought to be 
rambling and frolicking in the fields or the 
high road. Even in London when the wea- 
ther holds fair, everybody should stir abroad. 
The street pavements are dry, and every com- 
fort is at command in our public parks. Gen- 
tlemen of the faculty ! forgive us for so pick- 
ing your pockets. 

But let us bid a sweet good morrow to the 
coming Spring. It will be almost here be- 
fore we can again discourse of the month of 
April. Even now the glorious Sun lifts 
high his mighty head, and penetrates his 
deep darting force to the dark retreat of 
vegetation ; setting 

the steaming power 

At large, to wander o'er the verdant earth 

In various hues; but chiefly thee, gay green! 

Thou smiling Nature's universal robe ! 

We who reside in the country, and who can 

watch daily the effects of the growing sun, 

mark with delight the progress even of a 

single day : — 

Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs, 
And swells, and deepens, to the cherish d eye. 
The hawthorn whitens, and the juicy groves 
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, 
Till the whole leafy forest stands displayed 
In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales. 

We now bid good bye to the Holly and 
the Mistletoe; these will have no mqre 
charms for us till the year is in " the sere 
and yellow leaf." Yet have they served us 
bravely through the months of winter, and 
we dismiss them kindly. They call to mind, 
as they become lost to sight, many things 
that we would not have altogether forgotten. 
H — e — m ! " Christmas comes but once a year." 

Years gone by, we remember to have ex- 
perienced much genial warmth in the month 
of March. The sun shone brightly, and 
vegetation was in a truly forward state : — 

In His strong reign of blast and storm, 
Smil'd many a long, bright, sunny day; 

The winds once bleak weiv soft and warm, 
And Heaven put on the blue of May ! 

Vol. t.— New Series. 



We trust we shall see many such bright 
clays, ere the present month of March de- 
parts. The birds have been sadly outwitted 
this year. They began nidification early, 
but suffered total loss by the roughness of 
the weather. Their song, too, commenced 
early; this also was gradually silenced. 
Nothing daunted, again are they busily oc- 
cupied. Some are building, some laying, 
some sitting, and some have their eggs nearly 

The thrush is loud, merry, and joyful: the 
blackbird mellow, the robin in fine voice, 
the skylark daily rehearsing, the little wren 
trembling with song, and Dicky Dunnock loud 
and eloquent. These and others will now 
be daily adding to our happiness, as well as 
their own. We must all now bid adieu to 

Wordsworth, like ourselves, seems par- 
tial to the month of March, — no doubt from 
the fact of his having enjoyed many a bright 
day in that month, long to be remembered. 
The first mild day of March seems to have 
made him eloquent. We will let our readers 
as well as ourselves, share in the perusal of 
his poetic effusion on that occasion : — 

It is the first mild clay of March; 

Each minute sweeter than before: 
The redbreast sings from the tall larch 

That stands beside our door. 

There is a blessing in the air, 

Which seems a sense of joy to yield 

To the bare trees, and mountains bare, 
And grass in the green field. 

My sister! ('tis a wish of mine) 

Now that our morning meal is done, 

Make haste, your morning task resign; 
Come forth and feel the sun. 

Edward will come with you. and pray 
Put on with speed your woodland dress: 

And bring no hook; for this one day 
We '11 give to idleness. 

No joyless forms shall regulate 

Our living Calendar : 
We from to-day, my friend, will date 

The opening of the year. 

Love, now an universal birth, 
From heart to heart is stealing, 

From earth to man, from man to earth ; 
— It is the hour of feeling. 

One moment now may give us more 

Than fifty years of reason : 
Our minds will drink at every pore 

The spirit of the season. 

Some silent laws our hearts will make, 
Which they shall long obey: 

We for the year to come may take 
Our temper from to-day. 

And from the blessed power that rolls 

About, below, above, 
We'll frame the measure of our souls: 

They shall be tuned to " love." 

Then come, my sister! come, I pray, 

With speed put on your woodland dress : 
And bring no book ; for this one day 
We'll give to idleness. 
Who can read such delightful lines as 
these, and enter into the spirit that animated 
the writer, without loving the Country 
and the retirement it induces ? 

We who live, or at least are from day 
to day doomed to be pent up for many hours 
in the abominable City of London, sigh for 
the " means " of retirement ; but alas, they 
come not ! Let us then speak and end our 
wishes in verse. Would that they could be 
granted ! 

-Far from the town, 

Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps, 
Oft let us wander o'er the dewy fields 
Where freshness breathes; and dash the trem- 
bling drops 
From the bent bush, — as through the verdant 

Of sweet-briar hedges we pursue our walk, 
Or taste the smell of dairy, or ascend 
Some lofty eminence! 

Such ought to be the privileges of an Editor. 

The poet Cow per, in one of the lively and 
ingenious fables which he penned as the pastime 
of some of his leisure hours, represents under 
the title of " Pairing-time Anticipated," an assem- 
bly of the birds on a warm and bright winter's 
day, resolved to take advantage of the mildness 
of the season and anticipate the coming spring. 
The youthful birds, in their first full-pledged 
season, are all wondrously taken with the 
project, and reject with scorn the advice of an 
experienced Bullfinch, 

" Who could boast 
More years and wisdom than the most." 

The consequence we may anticipate. The 
whole feathered tribe proceed as wiser human 
beings too often do, setting all experience at de- 
fiance, and refusing to be guided by any advice 
which runs counter to their own inclinations and 
wishes. The results were soon sufficiently ap- 
parent — 

" All pair'd, and each pair built a nest. 
But though the birds were thus in haste, 
The leaves came on not quite so fast ; 
And Destiny, that sometimes bears 
An aspect stern on man's affairs, 
Not altogether smiled on theirs. 
The wind, of late, breath' d gently forth, 
Now shifted east, and east by north: 
Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know, 
Could shelter them from rain or snow, 
Stepping into their nests, they paddled ; 
Themselves were chill'd, their eggs were addled; 
Soon every father bird and mother 
Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other, 
Parted without the least regret, 
Except that they had ever met; 
And learn'd in future to be wiser, 
Than to neglect a good adviser." 



The issue of human rashness and folly thus 
humorously pictured in the experience of the fea- 
thered tribes, are frequently of so mischievous 
and disastrous a nature, that it might seem de- 
sirable with thousands to have the unerring in- 
stincts of the lower animals substituted for the 
rational faculties which are possessed by them to 
so little purpose. 

Such unseasonable excesses, however, though 
sufficiently common in the experience of men, 
are altogether unknown among the lower ani- 
mals. No mild winter ever tempts the finch or 
the robin to build its nest, or awakens the in- 
harmonious music of the cawing rookery, to call 
its inmates to the social work of spring. The 
birds which flit about the leafless woods through- 
out the winter, remain as indifferent to the whole 
proceedings connected with the reproductive 
functions and instincts, as the whole tribe of in- 
sects, then cradled in their silken cocoons and 
chrysalis cases. 

But no sooner does the proper season approach, 
than a total change is apparent. Though the 
chill of winter still lingers, and the increasing 
warmth of the sun's rays are only very partially 
perceivable, a complete regeneration of nature 
seems already begun. The sap is rising in the 
dry and dead-like branches, the bads are begin- 
ning to swell, and their hardened, dry scales 
to expand and make way for the growth of 
the tender leaf; the frost-bound clod is thawing, 
and the soft buds, and seeds, and roots within, 
are quickening into life. Soon the bare branches 
of the forests and hedge-rows are to be clad in 
the green livery of spring, and the whole fea- 
thered tribes, as if in anticipation of this change, 
are making joyful preparations for the season 
of love. 

This is the period when the feathered song- 
sters are in full note, and many birds which are 
silent or rarely heard at other seasons, now 
enliven the period of the opening year with 
their cheerful invitation to their mates. The 
pairing of birds, while it lasts, has something so 
much akin to the social and domestic duties and 
affections of the human race, that they excite a 
sympathy such as we cannot extend to other 

With the earliest indications of approaching 
spring, each feathered songster is seen to seek its 
mate ; and the pair thus associated together, 
remain faithful to each other until they have 
reared a young brood, and seen them fledged, 
and perfectly capable of providing for their own 
subsistence ; nor is the union always limited to 
the single season. Some birds have been known 
to return year after year, and repair and occupy 
the same nest. In a wood in the neighborhood 
of Cumbernauld House, Dumbartonshire, in the 
vicinity of some extensive lime quarries, a pair 
of magpies were observed to build in a large 
beech tree for several successive years, and one 
of the birds having been caught and marked, 
it was seen to return to the same nest for six 
successive seasons thereafter, most probably also 
with the same mate. Mr. Rennie has noted 
another magpie's nest which continued thus 
successively occupied, season after season, for 
ten years ; and though a brood of four or five 
young ones was reared each season, all of them 

disappeared from the neighborhood, as if recog- 
nising it as the exclusive property of the old pair. 

There is something exceedingly lively and 
pleasing in the cheerful notes of birds in the 
spring time. However unmusical their voices 
may be, their notes convey so much the idea of 
industrious happiness and the full enjoyment of 
life, that few indeed will fail to derive rapturous 
pleasure from the sounds. The twittering of the 
swallow, the chirp of the sparrow, and even the 
incessant cawing of the rook, seem all to harmo- 
nise with the reviving life of nature, and to add 
a new charm to the season of spring. 

" The swallow," Sir Humphry Davy remarks, 
" is one of my favorite birds, and a rival of the 
nightingale ; for he glads my sense of seeing, as 
much as the other does my sense of hearing. 
He is the joyous prophet of the year, the harbin- 
ger of the best season ; he lives a life of enjoy- 
ment among the loveliest forms of nature ; 
winter is unknown to him, and he leaves the 
green meadows of England in autumn, for the 
myrtle and orange groves of Italy, and for the 
palms of Africa." 

The migratory habits here referred to, and 
which are common to so many of the birds that 
visit us in the spring, and another remarkable 
feature to the fact of their return, year after year, 
to the same locality. It is, indeed, scarcely 
possible to conceive of a more marvellous and 
unerring instinct than that which guides the 
little swallow, or a less powerful bird, back 
over nearly a quarter of the globe, returning 
unerringly at the appointed season, and finding 
its way over land and ocean, to the precise spot in 
the old tree or meadoiv, or under the sheltering 
eave where its nest has been renewed from year 
to year. 


"He who opposes his own judgment against the con- 
sent of the times, ought to be backed with unanswerable 
Truths ; and he who has Truth on his side is a tool, 
as well as a Coward, if he is afraid to own it because of 
the currency or multitude of other men's opinions." — 


"We have already, in an Introductory Chapter 
(see page 129), prepared the minds of our in- 
telligent readers for an intellectual treat of an 
almost unimaginable kind ; nor will they be dis- 
appointed, however high their expectations may 
be raised. 

It has even now become evident, that the pro- 
posal to embody the Works of the great Philoso- 
pher, Dr. Gall, in our columns, is hailed with 
enthusiasm far and near, — the more so, as Ave 
have promised to offer observations, and append 
Notes as we go on, when ever such may be con- 
sidered needful or advisable. 

Only let this great Philosopher be fairly re- 
presented, and let the Reason God has given us 
be properly exercised, and we shall find Society 
rapidly advancing in the intellectual scale — and 
no less rapidly than safely, for this must be ever 
uppermost in our thoughts. 

We will sift everything, and prove everything, 

as we go gently on; and we Avill advance no 
wild theories that cannot be fully borne out by 
practical experience. Nor will we assert, or 
suffer to be asserted, any one thing that cannot 
be proved as a " fact." 

What we here propose to effect is, by calm 
reason ; not venturing, in the remotest degree, to 
tread upon "forbidden ground." The soul of 
man is far beyond our comprehension ; it ever 
has been so, ever will be so; — we ever wish 
it to be so. Had it been essential for our " hap- 
piness" to comprehend it, it never would have 
been withholden from our knowledge. This is 
" our Faith." 

The inquiry we now pursue, is worthy of the 
times in which we live. It could not have been 
successfully undertaken at an earlier moment; 
but now, the " masses " begin to emerge from 
their state of darkness ; one discovery creates a 
desire for another, and the issue is — " Thought." 

An attentive ear then, a ready mind, and a 
thirst for knowledge, being the materials upon 
which we calculate, we need not dwell longer 
upon the threshold. We will therefore at once 
address ourselves to the Multitude. 

As promised, we shall commence our " labor 
of love " with a carefully-compiled biography of 
Dr. Gall. This will be followed, in easy stages, 
by translations from his " Great Work." 

Francois Joseph Gall was born in a village of 
the Grand Duchy of Baden, on the 9th of March, 
1758. His father was a merchant and mayor of 
Tiefenbrun, a village two leagues distant from 
Pforzheim, in Swabia. His parents, professing 
the Roman Catholic religion, had intended him 
for the church; but his natural disposition was 
opposed to it. His studies were pursued at Baden, 
afterwards at Brucksal, and then were continued 
at Strasburg. Having selected the healing art 
for his profession, he went, in 1781, to Vienna, 
the Medical School of which had obtained great 
reputation, particularly since the time of Van 
Swieten and Stahl. 

Dr. Gall gives an account, of which the fol- 
lowing is an abstract, of the manner in which 
he was led to the study of the natural talents 
and dispositions of men, his views of which ter- 
minated in the formation of the Phrenological 

From an early age he was given to observa- 
tion, and was struck with the fact, that each of 
his brothers and sisters, companions in play, and 
schoolfellows, possessed some peculiarity of 
talent or disposition, which distinguished him 
from others. Some of his schoolmates were dis- 
tinguished by the beauty of their penmanship; 
some by their success in arithmetic, and others 
by their talent for acquiring a knowledge of 
natural history, or of languages. The composi- 
tions of one were remarkable for elegance, while 
the style of another was stiff and dry; and a 
third connected his reasonings in the closest man- 
ner, and clothed his argument in the most forci- 
ble language. Their dispositions were equally 
different, and this diversity appeared also to de- 
termine the direction of their partialities and aver- 
sions. Not a few of them manifested a capacity 
for employments which they were not taught: 
they cut figures in wood, or delineated them on 

paper: some devoted their leisure to painting, 
or the culture of a garden, while their comrades 
abandoned themselves to noisy games, or tra- 
versed the woods to gather flowers, seek for 
birds' nests, or catch butterflies. In this manner 
each individual presented a character peculiar to 
himself; and Gall observed, that the individual 
who, in one year, had displayed selfish or knavish 
dispositions, did not become in the next a good 
and faithful friend. 

The scholars with whom young Gall had the 
greatest difficulty in competing, were those who 
learned by heart with great facility; and such 
individuals frequently gained from him by their 
repetitions, the places which he had'obtained by 
the merit of his original compositions. 

Some years afterwards, having changed his 
place of residence, he still met individuals en- 
dowed with an equally great talent of learning 
to repeat. He then observed, that his school- 
fellows, so gifted, possessed prominent eyes ; and 
he recollected, that his rivals in the first school 
had been distinguished by the same peculiarity. 
When he entered the University, he directed his 
attention, from the first, to the students whose 
eyes were of this description, and he soon found 
that they all excelled in getting rapidly by heart, 
and giving correct recitations, although many of 
them were by no means distinguished in point 
of general talent. This observation was recog- 
nised also by the other students in the classes; 
and, although the connection betwixt the talent 
and the external sign was not at this time estab- 
lished upon such complete evidence as is requisite 
for a philosophical conclusion, yet Dr. Gall could 
not believe that the coincidence of the two cir- 
cumstances thus observed was entirely "acci- 
dental." He suspected, therefore, from this 
period, that they stood in an important relation 
to each other. After much reflection, he con- 
ceived, that if Memory for words was indicated 
by an external sign, the same might be the case 
with the other intellectual powers; and, from 
that moment, all individuals distinguished by 
any "remarkable" faculty became the objects 
of his attention. By degrees, he conceived him- 
self to have found external characteristics, which 
indicated a decided disposition for Painting, 
Music, and the Mechanical Arts. He became 
acquainted, also, with some individuals distin- 
guishable for the determination of their cha- 
racter, and he observed a particular part of their 
heads to be very largely developed. This fact 
first suggested to him the idea of looking to the 
head for the signs of the Moral Sentiments. But 
in making these observations, he never conceived, 
for a moment, that the Skull was " the cause " of 
the different talents, as has been erroneously 
represented ; — he referred the influence, whatever 
it was, to the Brain. 

In following out, by observations, the principle 
which accident had thus suggested, he for some 
time encountered difficulties of the greatest mag- 
nitude. Hitherto he had been altogether igno- 
rant of the opinions of Physiologists, touching the 
brain, and of Metaphysicians respecting the men- 
tal faculties, and had simply obseived nature. 
When, however, he began to enlarge his know- 
ledge of books, he found the most extraordinary 
conflict of opinions everywhere prevailing, and 



this, for the moment, made him hesitate about 
the correctness of his own observations. He 
found that the moral sentiments had, by an 
almost general consent, been consigned to the 
thoracic and abdominal viscera; and, that while 
Pythagoras, Plato, Galen, Haller, and some 
other Physiologists, placed the intellectual facul- 
ties in the brain, Aristotle placed it in the heart, 
Van Helmont in the stomach, Des Cartes, and 
his followers, in the pineal gland, and Drelin- 
court and others in the cerebellum! 

He observed also that a great number of Phi- 
losophers and Physiologists asserted, that all 
men are born with equal mental faculties ; and 
that the differences observable among them are 
owing either to education, or to the accidental 
circumstances in which they are placed. If all 
differences are accidental, he inferred that there 
could be no natural signs of predominating 
faculties, and. consequently, that the project of 
learning, by observation, to distinguish the func- 
tions of the different portions of the brain, must 
be hopeless. This difficulty he combated, by 
the reflection that his brothers, sisters, and 
schoolfellows, had all received very nearly the 
same education, but that he had still observed 
each of them unfolding a distinct character ; over 
which, circumstances appeared to exert only a 
limited control. He observed also, that not 
unfrequently they, whose education had been 
conducted with the greatest care, and on whom 
the labors of teachers had been most freely 
lavished, remained far behind their companions 
in attainments. " Often," says Dr. Gall, " we 
were accused of want of will, or deficiency in 
zeal; but many of us could not, even with the 
most ardent desire, followed out by the most obsti- 
nate efforts, attain in some pursuits even to me- 
diocrity; while in some other points, some of us 
surpassed our schoolfellows without an effort, and 
almost, it might be said, without perceiving it 
ourselves.* But, in point of fact, our masters 
did not appear to attach much faith to the 
system which taught the equality of mental 
faculties; for they thought themselves entitled to 
exact more from one scholar, and less from 
another. They spoke frequently of natural gifts, 
or of the gifts of God; and. consoled their pupils 
in the words of the gospel, by assuring them that 
each would be required to render an account, 
only in proportion to the gifts which he had 

Being convinced by these facts that there is a 
natural and constitutional diversity of talents and 
dispositions, he encountered, in books, still another 
obstacle to his success in determining the exter- 
nal signs of the mental powers. He found that, 
instead of faculties for languages, drawing, dis- 
tinguishing places, music, and mechanical arts, 
corresponding to the different talents which he 
had observed in his schoolfellows, the metaphy- 
sicians spoke only of general powers — such as 
perception, conception, memory, imagination, 
and judgment; and. when he endeavored to dis- 
cover external signs in the head, corresponding 
to these general faculties, or to determine the 

* We have, in our Introductory Chapter, noticed the 
same striking fact in connection with our own early 
education ; and very often since, in others. — Ed. K. J. 

correctness of the physiological doctrines regard- 
ing the seat of the mind, as taught by the authors 
already mentioned, he found perplexities with- 
out end, and difficulties insurmountable. 

Dr. Gall, therefore, abandoning every theory 
and pre-conceived opinion, gave himself up en- 
tirely to the observation of nature. Being Phy- 
sician to a Lunatic Asylum in Vienna, he had 
opportunities, of which he availed himself, of 
making observations on the insane. He visited 
prisons, and resorted to schools: he was intro- 
duced to the courts of Princes, to colleges and 
the seats of Justice; and wherever he heard of 
an individual distinguished in any particular 
way, either by remarkable endowment or defi- 
ciency, he observed and studied the development 
of his head. In this manner, by an almost im- 
perceptible induction, he conceived himself war- 
ranted in believing, that "particular mental 
powers are indicated by particular configurations 
of the head." 

(To be Continued Weekly.') 

In the Neighborhood of Abbotsford. 

On the morning of Saturday, the 16th of 
June, 1849, a party of botanists in embryo, 
headed by their respected professor, pro- 
ceeded by an early train from Edinburgh to 
Galasheils, determined upon a day's enjoy- 
ment in the classic ground in the immediate 
vicinity of Abbotsford. In one who has no 
knowledge of botanical zeal, the sight of a 
motley party proceeding in high glee to the 
field of their delightful labor, with box on 
back and spud in belt, is apt to excite an 
amount of curiosity, coupled too often, in 
the minds of the vulgar, with a degree of 
ridicule. Young gentlemen of all forms and 
sizes, from the tall, thoughtful student, 
canistered and belted, to the merry, ruddy 
little fellow, whose cherry face as yet bears 
not a mark of " time's effacing ringer ; " 
from the serious, spectacled four-year, to 
the freshman in the monkey. To see the 
glee and unforced smiles, and hear the ready 
tattle and merry laugh, few would imagine 
that all these bearers of canisters were bent 
on a day of pleasure accompanied by severe 
toil, physical and mental. Well, our tickets 
being taken, our corns crushed, and hats 
knocked in amid the hurry, we rushed into 
the bare-seated third-class carriages ; for 
botanists are not over particular ; and two 
hours' puffing and banging brought us with 
fresh spirits to the shawl-manufacturing town 
of Galasheils, situated partly in the adjacent 
counties of Selkirk and Koxburghshire. 

What was done there, let no man ask. 
Some breakfasted ; a few, not the botanists, 
had beer ; and a large party searched the 
ditches and field sides in pursuit of their 
peculiar pleasures. All were bent on en- 
joyment, and all did enjoy themselves, one 



way or another. What need is there of a 
detailed account of every little incident and 
march in its regular order ? We were merely 
rambling, not surveying ; and this is but a 
page from a Rambler's Note-book — not a 
geographical monograph. What need, either, 
for a mention of every plant ? Some are so 
commonly met with, that no one thinks them 
worthy of particular notice. Who, in de- 
scribing a botanical walk, would particu- 
larise such way-side plants as the white- 
flowered dead nettle, Lamium album', or the 
little blue -flowered germander speedwell, 
Veronica chammdrys ; and who would expect 
to take a half-hour's walk into the country, 
and not meet the modest blue bell, Cam- 
panula rotundifolia, in his way ; also the 
golden, brown Sarothamnus scoparius, and 
its spiney, ever -flowering relative, the furze 
or whin, Ulex Europeus — with a hundred 
other every- day familiars, all of which, 

" Wee, modest, crimson tippet flower, 

the daisy, not excepted, were met with, and 
helped to increase the weight of our tin 
cases ? 

The Tweed, as might be expected, was an 
object of no small interest to us — the river 
which Scott and Hogg, and a multitude of 
lesser bards had sung- — and was not to be 
passed carelessly, even had we had no long- 
ings after a morsel of its famous salmon. 

When we first saw it, the river was clear 
as crystal — not a green leaf or finny creature 
in its bosom, but we could distinctly trace 
it. However, at the time of our second visit 
dark clouds had o'ercast the sky, and large 
drops of warm rain were falling fast upon 
our shoulders : and as we looked upon the 
dark and swollen stream, we could not resist 
the melancholy satisfaction of repeating the 
words of one of Scotland's dearest songs — 

" I've seen Tweed's silver stream, 
Glht'ring in the sunny beam, 
Grow drumlie and dark as it roll'd on its way." 

But it is not with poetry that we have 
to do ; it is with plants. On crossing the 
river, we were charmed with the pretty white 
flowers of a water crowfoot, which, on ex- 
amination, turned out to be Ranunculus 
fluitansQi Lamarck, distinguished from R. 
aquatilis by the leaves being all divided into 
threadlike segments, and submersed beneath 
the water; the silvery white flowers, with 
their cluster of golden stamens, being the only 
portion visible to the passer-by. Several 
patches of R. aquatilis were also seen with 
floating leaves, divided into three or five 
rounded lobes, forming, -when dried on paper, 
a curious contrast with the capillary sub- 
mersed ones. The wavy green and olive 
leaves of the crisp pond weed, Poiamogeton 
crispus, were also in considerable abundance ; 
as well as the leathery-leaved P. natans. 

Passing on from the river, let us at once 
into the plantation at Abbotsford, and the 
first object which attracts our notice is a 
large cover of meadow-sweet, spiraa idmaria, 
and thejwood-crane's bill, geranium sylvaticum, 
with its pretty purple flowers and curiously 
beaked fruit, forming no inapt representation 
of the bill of a crane. The unrivalled Lon- 
don pride, saxifraga umbrosa, shone with a 
pride so becoming, that we did feel inclined 
to address it by its commoner name, " Nancy 
Pretty!" So beautiful are the flowers of 
this little plant, and so exquisite are the 
pencillings on them, that the belief is pre- 
valent that no artist can paint a likeness of 
it ; and so far as the writer has observed, 
the popular opinion seems tolerably true : — 

" Who can paint like Nature ? 
Can imagination boast, 
Amid her gay creations, hues like these, 
And lay them on so delicately line, 
And lose them in each other 1 " 

" Deep in the forest glade " the flesh- 
colored spike of the bistort, Polygonum bis- 
toria, was found, and enriched more than 
one student's vasculum; and the three-colored 
wild violet, or heartsease, viola tricolor, said 
to be the origin of the richer-colored ones 
in the garden, was, as usual, abundant, with 
the modest dog violet, V. canina. 

Not the least beautiful, though by no 
means the rarest of our captures, was the 
lovely wood-forget-me-not,M?/osotas sylvatica. 
Never had we seen it look so fresh, or show 
so rich a blue ; it seemed to know that it 
grew on holy ground, and forcibly ^called to 
our minds the beautiful words of the poet 
Clare : — 

" A flower is not a flower alone, 
A thousand sanctities invest it ; 
And as they form a radiant zone 
Around its simple beauty thrown, 
Their magic tints become its own, 
As if their spirits had possess'dit." 

Had, in reality, as we almost believed it, 
the spirit of the mighty bard hovered about 
the lovely green, we could not have looked 
on it with more admiration ; nor could it 
have been more firmly impressed on our 
memory. Primroses, Primula vulgaris, and 
columbines, Aguilegia vulgaris, were in 
abundance ; looking beautiful amid the forest 
of green which surrounded them. Tall 
grasses and hemlocks looked grave or gay, 
as the sun stole over them ; and trees, whose 
trunks were yet free of " usurping ivy," were 
plentifully covered by patches of "idle 
moss." The cypress moss, Hypnum cupres- 
siforma, was in great plenty, as well as its 
less beautiful companion, the Orthotrichum 

The only other plant we here care to 
mention, is the common ling or heather, 
Calluna vulgaris, which, though by no means 
plentiful in the wood or uncommon in the 



hills, served to call to mind the words of 
the mighty spirit who once presided over 
the scene. : — *' If I did not see the heather 
at least once a-year, I think I should die ! " 

We shall not stay to describe the habita- 
tion of the poet ; leaving that, with the 
Abbeys of Melrose and Dryburgh, for the 
archaeologist, and must content ourselves 
with a quotation from one who wrote in Sir 
Walter Scott's own time. The writer of the 
article Roxburghshire, in the Edinburgh 
Encyclopaedia, says : — ■ 

" The most interesting of these mansions 
is Abbotsford, a fine Gothic castle, the in- 
ternal and external decorations of which 
characterise it as the residence of the poet 
and antiquarian of Scotland. But it is not 
merely in his residence that Sir Walter has 
evinced his taste and judgment. He has 
covered his extensive property with the 
most thriving and judiciously laid- out planta- 
tions ; and in improving and planting his 
estate, he has set an example which has 
greatly contributed to ornament that beauti- 
ful portion of the valley of the Tweed." 

Fair Melrose was next visited, and many 
of our names inscribed in the visitors' book ; 
but being toward the latter part of our 
journey, very little was clone in botany. 
The interior was, as might be expected, 
covered with grey lichens, and in many 
places by soft green moss ; while between 
the flags of the pavement, where such ex- 
isted, " green grass grew up." The glory in 
a great measure has departed from it ; the 
pealing organ and the swelling anthem are 
silent ; and the solitary chirp of the sparrow, 
or the hollow sighing of the wind, alone 
awake its echo. Truly, 

" If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, 
Go visit it by the pale moonlight ; 
For the gay beams of lightsome day 
Gild but to flout the ruins grey." 

The carving on the pillars and windows is 
very beautiful, and to a poetic mind give the 
idea of reality : — 

" Nor herb nor flow'ret glistened there, 
But was carved on the cloisters' arches as fair." 

By far the most interesting spot to us was 
the romantic resting-place of him whose fame 
sheds a halo round the locality — Dryburgh, 
a fine old abbey, the favorite resort of the 
poet when living, and his grave-yard when 
dead. It appears almost sacrilege to touch 
anything belonging to the great departed. 
" Touch not the flowers, they are sacred to 
the dead," continually rang in our ears ; and 
yet we reverently lopped a few twigs from 
off a fine old yew tree, Saxus haccata, once 
his favorite shade, and even cut a morsel of 
the ivy, Hedera helix, and honeysuckle, 
Lonicera peryclyrnenum, which shaded his 

Another relic brought up before us the 
sturdy antiquarian ; it was an old stone cof- 
fin, which had been dug from the banks of 
the Tweed some twenty years before. It 
had now a rich lining of green moss. This 
was immediately in front of the tomb of the 
poet. Enclosed within an iron grating, and 
wreathed over with ivy and honeysuckle, 
was a simple block of granite, covering the 
once robust frame of the Border Minstrel. 
Beneath that simple block, rested the ashes 
of one who will ever live in the hearts of his 
countrymen, in fellowship with their adored 
Wallace and well-beloved Burns. 

There crumbled into dust the earthly 
tenement of one of the most powerful minds 
that ever lightened up the fireside's evening 
glow, or set the world a speculating as to 
where they should find his fellow. 

" Sic transit gloria mundi 

! " 

' J. B. D. 

The Moon's Influence on the Atmosphere. 

From the comparison of a series of observa- 
tions made at Munich, Stuttgard, and Augsburgh, 
by Professor Schubler, and continued for twenty- 
eight years, it appears that it rains more fre- 
quently during the increase than during the wane 
of the moon — the proportion being that of 845 to 
696 ; or, in round numbers, of 6 to 5. The same 
fact has been confirmed by the observations of 
Pilgrim, at Vienna. From some observations 
made by an astronomer at Viviers, it appears, 
that during the last twenty years, the number of 
wet days at the New Moon was 78; at the First 
Quarter 88 ; at Full Moon 82 ; at the Last Quar- 
ter 65; at the Moon's perigee 96; and at her 
apogee 84. It appears also that the mercury in 
the barometer is, on an average, 2-10ths of an 
inch higher during the two weeks of the Moon's 
greatest illumination than during the other half 
of her course. The time of the Moon's changes 
has long been popularly supposed to be attended 
by changes of the weather. M. Toaldo gives the 
following as the probabilities of a change — the 
results of 48 years' observation; New Moon 6 to 
1 ; First Quarter 5 to 2; Full Moon 5 to 2; Last 
Quarter 5 to 4 ; perigee 7 to 1 ; apogee 4 to 1 ; 
from which it will be seen that a change is much 
more probable at the New Moon than at any other 
period. When two of these points coincide, the 
probabilities are as follows: — New Moon and 
perigee 33 to 1 ; New Moon and apogee 7 to 1 ; 
Full Moon and perigee 10 to 1 ; Full Moon and 
apogee 8 to 1. These positions usually cause 
storms and tempests, especially if the Moon is 
near the equator. The changes will not be found 
to take place on the exact days of the Moon's 
phases, but in the winter months to precede, and 
in the summer months to follow them. — From 
Donovan's Meteorological Almanac. 

Time. — Since Time is not a person we can 
overtake when he is past, let us honor him with 
mirth, and cheerfulness of heart, while he is passing. 

— Goethe. 


W. P.— Thanks. Send any contribution you may be 
preparing. The Subject is both popular and interesting. 

II. G.— You are right. The value will be doubled, as we 
are aware, by what you have proposed. 

S. C— Your questions will soon be fully discussed in a 
leading article. 

C. R. C— Do not attempt to give your Bullfinch his 
liberty before the middle of May. 

T. G. — Our space is so circumscribed, that "Fugitive 
Poetry" can only be admissible under very peculiar 
circumstances. We are already overwhelmed with 
similar "kind offerings." This "reply" will suffice 
for all the writers. Their favors have merit, and 
would be readily available in a Monthly Magazine. 

New Subscribers, and Casual Readers, are referred to 
the Leading Article in our First Number for the 
detailed objects of the London Journal : to these 
we shall rigidly adhere. 

Private Letters. — Of these we daily receive such 
immense quantities, that we must really beg the 
writers to excuse our not replying to them. Our time 
is more profitably occupied. All vacancies, as they are 
called, are filled up. Let this general answer suffice. 

Correspondents sending in any " facts " connected with 
Science or Natural History, are requested in every 
case to append their names and places of abode. In no 
instance, however, will their names be published with- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others.— It having been 
deemed expedient, to meet the views of the Trade, that 
this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
tion, Contributors and others will be so kind as to 
bear in mind that they must give us an extra " week's 
grace," and wait patiently till their favors appear. 

All persons who may send in MSS., but which may no 
be " accepted," are requested to preserve copies of 
them., as the Editor cannot hold himself responsible 
for their return. 

To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
need only order it to be sent to them by any of their 
local Booksellers or Newsvendors. It is published 
simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 

Saturday, March 6, 1852. 

We have for some time past been unmis- 
takeably dejected, — " our harp hung upon 
the willows." There have been too many- 
reasons for this — reasons which ought not 
to have existed ; for whilst we have been 
pulling manfully forward, others have, by 
a dead weight, drawn us fearfully backward. 
Our Journal, it seems, has been de- 
nounced all over the country as having 
been " discontinued," " not to be had," 
" never published in time," &c, &c. Our 
table groans under such complaints. These, 
and similar acts of kindness done us by the 
provincial booksellers, we have to listen to, 
ponder over, digest (fortunately we have a 
good digestion) — and forgive. Be it so, 'an 
ye Avill, Good Masters : — 

" To err is human ; to forgive, Divine ;" 

So let us, from to-day, turn over a new 
And hearken, ye worthy booksellers in the 

provinces ! We now present new and irre- 
sistible claims to your kindly feelings. We 
are about to re-print all the Articles on 
" British Bong Birds," from the Gardeners 1 
Chronicle, which have for years past de- 
lighted both yourselves, your help-mates, 
your sons, your daughters, your friends, and 
your acquaintance. 

Nor do we stop here. No ; we are going 
to bring under the notice of yourselves and 
families, a Science, in the knowledge of 
which you are all vitally interested. No 
longer shall parents be in doubt as to what 
their children have the capacity to learn ; 
no longer shall children be punished and 
chastised for not learning what they are by 
Nature unable to learn. Every father, every 
mother, and every child, will now bid us 
"God-speed" on our journey; and thus 
"backed," what is there to forbid our 
triumph ? 

" Lovers of Nature," and the readers of 
our Journal, are synonymous persons ; and 
the Goddess Nature being our patron, — 
whether in the field, the garden, or the 
closet, we shall have an inexhaustible store 
to draw from, a fund which can fail us only 
when time with us shall be no more. Hence- 
forward then, ours will be a Journal that 
will make all men " think." 

We will just \ add our best thanks to the 
Government, for enabling the First and 
Second Monthly Parts of our Journal to 
travel together by post, and for the homoeo- 
pathic cost of sixpence the two. The cost 
will happily remain the same when four 
of our Monthly Parts shall have been issued 
— so that, cceteris paribus, all our sorrows 
are fast " dissolving into adieu ! " 

These new postal delectabilities came 
into operation on the 1st instant. We al- 
most imagine our most Gracious Queen 
Victoria, who regularly reads our Journal, 
had us in her eye whilst she was framing 
them. We remember, whilst doing grateful 
homage to her sacred person at the Great Ex- 
hibition of all Nations (whither we were sum- 
moned), that we were visited by one of her 
most surpassingly- eloquent looks, and smiles 
of approval. That ineffable " look " still 
lives with us ; that " smile " will die graven 
on our cheek. " May her dear little 
Majesty — God bless her ! — live for ever ! " 

We have pleasure in informing our readers, 
that the treaty between ourselves and the 
proprietors of the Gardeners' 1 Chronicle is con- 
cluded. All the Articles on " British Song 
Birds " which we furnished to that Paper 
(and which have long since been Out of Print), 
are now vested in us by right of purchase. 

Next week we propose Ke-printing in this 
Journal, the first of the series, — the re- 
mainder will follow in due course. 


The Insect Tribes. — May I suggest to you, 
whether it would not form a very pleasing feature 
iu your popular Journal, were a Monthly Calen- 
dar inserted of Insects about to appear, or which 
might shortly be expected? This would he on 
the plan adopted in " Samouelle's Entomologist's 
Companion," a book now quite out or print. 
You have a vast number of entomological readers ; 
and no doubt some one of them will furnish you 
with an amateur contribution of the kind, if they 
hear your opinion on the subject. — F. 

[A very excellent suggestion, truly. We shall 
be happy to receive any such Monthly List, and 
grateful for the favor rendered ; but it must be 
sent in the middle of each month, as we go to 
press with our Journal in advance.'] 

Parrots, and the Parrot Tribe. — As you seek 
advice in the proper treatment of these beautiful 
creatures, let me come to your aid as a man of 
experience. Half the ailments of the parrot tribe 
proceed from improper food, and lrom exposure 
to cold and draught. With judicious treatment, 
they thrive as well, and look as handsome, as any 
other birds. There is no doubt that both the 
parrot and the parrokeet, whose troubles you have 
recently recorded in your Journal, proceed from 
neglect. Let them be fed on canary seed, and 
some fine plain, dry bread, once a day; also, let 
them have clean water daily. A very little hemp- 
seed may be occasionally given them ; but animal 
food and grease of every kind must be strictly 
forbidden. I have known a parrot in such a 
state of health as to be almost naked, perfectly 
restored by proper diet. [No doubt of it, half these 
poor doomed parrots are over-fed, over-excited, 
and rendered irritable by excess. They then 
fidget themselves, and eventually disrobe them- 
selves of every feather within their reach.] This 
tribe of birds, some species of which are very 
susceptible of cold, should always be kept, during 
the winter season, in a room where there is a fire ; 
and at night the cage should be covered over 
with a cap of green baize or flannel. I have at 
the present time, five Australian ground parro- 
keets of several species (genus Platycercus), 
which are all in rude health and fine plumage. 
Their colors cannot be surpassed, if equalled; 
they are of the finest scarlet, crimson, purple, 
green, and yellow. They run along the ground, 
or climb with equal facility and grace. Their 
movements are totally dissimilar from those of the 
awkward Arborial species ; and this renders them 
striking and interesting subjects for the aviary, 
wherein their graceful carriage is set off to very 
great advantage. These birds, too, are very play- 
ful and very affectionate ; you cannot help loving 
them. Some of the species I would particularly 
recommend, are, the King, the Rosille, the Crim- 
son-shouldered, the Barnand, and the Blood-bdled. 
These are very beautiful, but rather expensive. 
Let me, before taking my leave, add, that the food 
above mentioned docs not apply to the Lory, 
and the Lorikeet. They must have sop, — J. B. 

[We are much obliged for the above friendly 
communication. It will be eagerly devoured 
by very many of our readers, who are now 
daily besieging us with letters of inquiry. It 

would seem that half the world keep parrots!] 

The Ailing Bullfinch. — I am happy to say that 
rny bullfinch is now in a fair way of recovery. He 
has now commenced piping again. One side of 
his head, however, is entirely destitute of feathers, 
in consequence of his rubbing it against his 
perch. Should I apply anything to allay the 
remaining irritation and reproduce the feathers, 
or leave it to nature? — J. C. 

[Let him fly daily about the room, for a 
change. The rest may be left to nature.] 

The Brain in Insects. — Can any of your kind 
correspondents enlighten me as to the precise 
situation of the brain in insects ? Opinions are 
so diverse on the subject, that I feel posed. Is it 
not situated in the first and second ganglions? I 
have always imagined it to be so. — J. 

Breeding of Canaries. — Many of your readers 
may feel interested in an account of the manage- 
ment by which a single pair of canaries in one 
season, brought up twenty-five young ones with- 
out the least mishap. They were placed in a 
cage about 3 feet long, 2 feet high, and 18 inches 
deep, with wire front and sides. One of these, in 
the breeding season, was covered with green 
gauze, there being a division, or platform, at one 
end, with nest-box (which, by the bye, can be 
excellently-well made by the half, or rather less, 
of a small cocoa-nut, screwed on a broad, fiat 
piece of wood, to make it stand upright), and the 
usual seed troughs, doors, drawer, &c. For 
building, they were supplied with clean, common 
white wadding, with which the hen quickly built 
her nest. When completed, it looked white and 
clean as the driven snow. There was no insect 
there; consequently, she sat without discomfort, 
and all the eggs were productive. The night 
before the young were expected, two little saucers 
were filled, one with chopped egg, the other with 
soaked " ladies' fingers." This was always re- 
peated the last thing at night, in order that as the 
daylight appeared, she could feed them as early as 
•was required. After breakfast, as punctually 
as possible, the sand, water, egg, biscuit, seed, 
and green -meat were duly seen to; leaving the 
hen to use that which her instinct taught her as 
being best, — a far more sure guide than all our 
philosophy. I had at one time, from this one 
pair, five young feeding themselves ; six fed by 
the cock ; and the hen sitting on the third nest of 
five eggs. She hatched one nest of six ; three of 
five ; and one of four eggs. By the bye, let me 
here warn your readers against breeding where 
gas is used; unless indeed, there is most ex- 
cellent ventilation. — Walter. 

Ducks Hatched by Hens and Turkeys. — In No* 
4 of your Journal a question has been raised— 
" Is it cruel to place ducks' eggs under a hen? " 
You say it is so. May I say a word upon the 
subject? The reason that hens are often em- 
ployed to hatch ducks' eggs is, that the young 
swimmers thrive much better when kept from the 
water about a fortnight, which cannot be done 
when a duck is the mother. Some of my friends 
think, that they avoid the cruelty you denounce 
by employing a turkey as incubator, instead of a 

hen. A turkey can hatch a greater number of 
eggs, and is always a most careful mother. One 
of their turkeys has been in the habit of hatching 
two broods in a season, and seemed last year to 
be quite accustomed to her task. When the 
young ducks took to the pond/which is shallow, 
she used to wade in as far as she could go with 
safety, and there remain, seeming to survey her 
charge with much more complacency than fear. 
My friends say, that since adopting the plan of 
hatching ducks by means of turkeys, they have 
reared almost all the young ones hatched. That 
was never the case under the " natural " system. 
Surely the saving the lives of so many innocents, 
that would otherwise be sacrificed, far more than 
counterbalances the slight charges of cruelty 
which may be brought against us ?~J. B. M. 

The Hedpole ; its Amiability and Docility. — I 
send you a short account of the wonderful 
instinct of a redpole. About two months ago, I 
purchased two of these little birds in the neigh- 
borhood of Holborn, and had them both "braced," 
in order to train them to draw water. One of 
them very soon became accustomed to his new 
mode of life, and speedily became a " proficient " 
in drawing his water. About three weeks ago, 
I purchased a cage trap, and placed in it the bird 
that I could not train ; I thought he might act as 
a decoy to others. My dog, a small terrier, 
being loose, damaged the cage and liberated 
the bird= Missing my little friend, I con- 
cluded that the dog had killed him. In the 
course of the day, however, I was agreeably 
surprised to see the little fugitive hopping about 
the garden ; and placing his companion in the 
trap, soon decoyed him home. Since then, I 
have each morning let the little fellow out for a 
flight. I take the spring off the trap, and he flies 
to and fro; refreshing himself from his com- 
panion's board. The most remarkable part of the 
story is, that he never enters the trap tilljhe 
wishes to go to roost in the evening. Will you 
be kind enough to inform me whether the red- 
pole is an English or foreign bird? I never re- 
member seeing them here, excepting only in cer- 
tain seasons. — C. G. 

[The redpole is an English bird, and visits our 
southern latitudes during the Winter principally. 
It is gregarious, and the London bird-catchers 
trap them in large quantities. It breeds in the 
northern parts of the kingdom, and comes down 
to us in the middle of Autumn. It is a pretty 
and a good-tempered bird, and may be taught any 

Experiments in Breeding Canaries. — I am par- 
ticularly fond of birds, and have been in the 
habit of breeding canaries for the last fifteen 
years. During the last ten years, I left the eggs 
with the hens, as they laid them ; and the last five 
years, I took them away. This I know you 
speak very much against ; but, if not troubling 
you too much, I will send you an account of my 
success, under both plans, during the fifteen years 
or seasons; and tell you why I tried both plans 
last season. I shall now be guided by your Jour- 
nal in every respect ; and at the end of the sea- 
son, I shall see what the result will be. — J. A. B. 

[Send us full particulars by all means, and let 

the public have the benefit of your experience. 
We shall offer our own remarks, as usual ; but 
we court information from every quarter. " In 
the multitude of counsellors, there is safety."'] 

Instinct and Reason in the Feathered Tribe. — 
You have expressed in your remarks on instinct 
and reason, a desire to know, " Where instinct 
ends and reason begins?" and many, you say, 
even doubt the existence of " reason," so called, 
at all. Now, I have a bird that is generally in 
a cage, with two companions ; if the cage con- 
taining the three birds is put upon the table, 
when the candles are lighted, the bird continues 
perfectly quiet, and is disposed to roost ; but if 
he is put into another cage, and that cage, after 
the hour of roosting, be placed upon the table, he 
becomes excited — feels that his companions are 
away; and tries, by means of song, to bring 
them to his notice. Instinct does not call to his 
recollection the society of his playmates; 'tis 
reason that informs him of their absence. [How 
so?] If you place the cage in which they are 
confined by the side of his, anxiety at once ceases, 
and he remains tranquil and composed. If, there- 
fore, a knowledge of their return pacifies his fears 
and renders him content, he must be governed 
by a reasoning faculty, since instinct alone could 
not impress upon his mind the absence of those 
from whom he had been separated. I have 
another bird that possesses, I think, an under- 
standing. If a small flower-pot-pan, nearly full 
of cold water, be put into his cage, he will use it 
readily for the purpose of bathing ; but if one of 
larger dimensions be placed upon the floor, he 
will forsake the smaller bath for the one that 
is more extensive. It is not instinct that directs 
him to the increased enjoyment which the greater 
quantity of water affords. Again: — amongst 
many little tricks that Master Pressnitz performs, 
there is one of taking off the lid of a box, con- 
taining a few dainties. When the box is placed 
before him, he takes the lid in his beak and 
throws it from him ; but if you place your finger 
on the lid he will stand and scold, and knows 
full well that to remove it is impossible. But 
the moment the finger is taken away, and the 
obstacle removed, off goes the lid in a jiffy. 
He will fly about the room for hours, apparently 
intent upon his own amusement; but should his 
mistress go to the cheffonier, which contains 
his bit of dried sponge-cake, he is after her at 
once — settles on her shoulder, and asks, in his way, 
for a " bit of nice." If I were not unwilling to 
trespass longer on your time, I could give you a 
dozen proofs that my canary birds are governed 
by reason and not by instinct. — E. R. M. 

[We have ourselves had animals that exhi- 
bited marks of intelligence, very, very, very far 
beyond those here related ; but we confess our- 
selves totally unable to agree with our fair Cor- 
respondent as to their indicating anything 
beyond the " instinct" of their nature.] 

The Skylark— Of all birds, the skylark is my 
favorite, and has been from my infancy; but 
I could never succeed in rearing them from the 
nest, or in fact, keeping a bought bird for any 
length of time. They all dropped off, one by 



one. This, I believe, originates from my not 
having* understood the proper food for them. 
The bird-fanciers of this city (Dublin) give 
them nothing but hemp seed ,- and this according 
to all enlightened bird-fanciers, is very in- 
jurious to birds. I never saw finer larks than 
were kept by a person in Liverpool, who fed 
them, I believe, on palm oil and pea meal, made 
up into a paste. Their cages were only 15 inches 
long, by 9 wide; and he never gave them a turf; 
yet did I never see finer birds, either for song or 
for feather. Will you be so kind as to give me 
the information I require, and say whether you 
approve of the palm oil and pea meal? Also tell 
me if larks can be kept without a turf, as people 
in a large city like this could not be running 
out into the country every time a turf is wanting. 
I have just heard that one of our inhabitants has 
succeeded in breeding from a robin and a canary ; 
could such a thing be? I intend to try the ex- 
periment. — J. C. 

[Palm oil is a " wrinkle," quite new to us, as 
regards feeding larks with it. " Clifford's 
German Paste," (24, Great St. Andrew Street, 
Holborn), is the only mixture we dare recom- 
mend. This should be rubbed with stale bun, 
or sponge-cake ; and be administered fresh, daily. 
If you want your larks to be "happy," give them, 
at least twice a week, a clover turf. If you care 
nothing about this, the alternative is before you. 
All who love birds, must not mind trouble ; and 
all who do not love birds ought not to keep them 
at all. We love a great many things, and a'great 
man)' - people; and never are we so happy as 
when we can take them home something we 
know they are fond of; one half the pleasures of 
life consist in these " trifles." As for breeding 
from robins and canaries, this is a fallacy. It can- 
not be. Nature has denounced it as impossible.] 

Will Bullfinches pair with Canaries, or with 
each other, in Confinement ? — Peeling sure it is no 
use trying to pair the bullfinch with the canary, 
after reading your answer to T. A., Aberdeen 
(see page 43), although I have done so for the 
last four years, without getting one bird, I 
should feel obliged to you if you would tell me 
whether you think bullfinches will pair in a 
breeding cage ? I ask this question, as I have a 
remarkably fine cock bird, and also a fine hen, 
which I bred up from a nestling, in 1850. I 
paired the latter with a male canary last season ; 
and she laid four nests of eggs (in all, nineteen), 
not one of which was of any good. I could not get 
her to build a nest for herself; but I gave her a 
nest from one of my canaries, to which she added 
more nesting, and laid her eggs in it. The hen 
sat as close as any of my hen canaries. Her 
first five eggs she laid in the empty box. My 
object is, not to make any gain thereby, but to 
see whether the thing could be done, as some 
of my friends, readers of your Journal, tell me 
it cannot be done. I have also a pair of hedge- 
sparrows, in a large cage ; they are paired, and 
have laid the foundation of a nest, in a corner of 
the cage. Should they have eggs, I will try and 
rear some of them under my canaries, of which 
I shall have sixteen pairs up to breed from. 

[Your friends are quite right in saying you 
cannot succeed with the bullfinches and the 

canaries. It is a rule of Nature that such 
things cannot be. Eggs there may be, perhaps 
will be, in plenty; but they will be necessarily 
unfruitful. We have had a cock robin paired 
with a hen canary, and lots of eggs from them, — 
but every experiment proved to us, that though 
we are foolish in our ideas, Nature is ever 
true to herself. Take this as solid truth. There 
is no reason why the eggs of bullfinches should 
be unfruitful, if the birds be naturally paired, 
and if you can get them to lay. The same with 
hedge- sparrows, — but you should appropriate 
a large room for the purpose, and let them fly 
about. We shall be glad to hear how your ex- 
periments go on ; but study Nature in all you do, 
and never look for impossibilities.] 

Pigeons, Diseases of. — " Mitcham" is informed 
that the lump under the tongue of his pigeon 
(see page 105.) is the Cancer, and the sooner he 
puts it out of its misery the better. It has arisen 
solely from the bird having been obliged to 
drink foul water. I never had one die of that, 
or indeed any other disease. To insure a sup- 
ply of clean water, let J. S. purchase, at any 
earthenware shop in the neighborhood of Isling- 
ton or Shoreditch, a pigeon fountain ; one hold- 
ing half a gallon will cost 2s., but they are to be 
had larger. By adopting these the pigeons can- 
not get into the water, which is thereby kept 
clean. I would here suggest that your corres- 
pondent keep some clay, mixed with a large 
quantity of salt, for his pigeons to peck at ; and 
if cleanliness be observed, his birds will continue 
healthy. It is useless to prescribe "remedies" for 
diseases which may be prevented. — J.H. 

[Pigeons require extreme cleanliness, as our 
correspondent remarks. We have kept them 
from early childhood, and nothing ever ailed 
them. This was all owing to good management, 
for we loved our birds.] 

Migratory Butterflies, an important Query. — 
T. G., in No. 6, of your Journal (page 90), at 
the conclusion of a long article on the " Propa- 
gation of Eels," says, — "Even Butterflies con- 
gregate together previous to migration." Will 
he be so obliging as to mention the names of these 
migratory Butterflies which thus congregate? 
He will thereby afford great satisfaction, not only 
to myself but to very many other Entomolo- 
gists. — Bombyx Atlas. 


Early Spring Flowers. 

By S. Hannaford, Jun., Esq. 

" welcome Spring ! 

Who can bathe 
His brow in thy young breezes, and not bless 
The new-born impulse, which gives wings to thought 
And pulse to action? "— Cariungton. 

Who is there amongst us — lovers of flow- 
ers and the beauties of Nature, in whose 
heart these beautiful lines by our Devonshire 
poet will not find an echo ; and not feel, when 
rambling by woods and hedge-rows at this 
cheering time of the year, when — 



" The Thrush (of all the throng 
Sweetest), lets loose her silver words, and sends 
A message to the linnets near, his friends : " 

and after the tedious confinement of Winter, 
" life renew' d at all its thousand fountains ?■" 
The mildness of the climate in this part of 
Devonshire, unlike that mentioned in your 
" Natural History of Song Birds " at page 81, 
renders the months of January and Febru- 
ary particularly beautiful ; and the time of 
flowering of many of our Wild plants is so 
much earlier than our Botanical works men- 
tion, that I think it worthy of record in 
your valuable little Journal. I will first 
remark that on Christmas day last, T found 
blooming as beautifully as ever, specimens of 
the Wood Strawberry {Fragaria vesca) which 
by the bye is scarcely ever out of flower 
here — the Ox-Eye Daisy — {Chrysanthemum 
leucanthemwn) — the Red Campion (Lychnis 
reopertina or divica) and Germander Speedwell 
{Veronica chamcedrys). The same day, wild 
ducks {Anas boschas) were flying over the 
Biver Dart. 

As early as 8th January, that " bonny 
peasant lass," the primrose {Primula vul- 
garis), who 

" Doth haunt the hours of Spring, 
A wood nymph brightening places lone and green," 

was in flower in some situations, recalling 
Blanco White's beautiful remark on seeing 
primroses carried by his window. " They 
were primroses— new primroses — so bloom- 
ing, so fresh, and so tender, that it might be 
said their perfume was received by the eye," 
and about the same time, the woods were 

"All golden with the never bloomless'furze, 
"Which now blooms most profusely."" 


Who can wonder at Linnaeus falling on his 
knees when he first saw this beautiful shrub, 
and thanking God for producing it ? On 
17th January, the Galanthus nivalis (snow- 
drop) was in flower, (double specimens are 
frequently found,) and the same day I heard 
the cry of the green Avoodpecker (Picus 
viridis) which is considerably earlier than I 
have remarked it in former years. On the 
29th, the Periwinkle {Vinca minor) enlivened 
the hedges with its delicate blue flowers, and 
in a ramble this clay, (February 7) a warm 
sunny day — with occasional showers, and 
cold ones too, making one feel that 

" Winter lingering chills the lap of [Spring "], 

I found on a moist rock, the Golden Saxi- 
frage (Chrysosplenium oppositifolium), its 
pretty pale yellow flowers almost hidden 
amongst the green leaves which encircle 
them: it derives its name from Chrijsos, gold ; 
and Splen the spleen ; a disease which this 
plant was supposed to cure. The Dog's Mer- 
cury {Mercurialis per ennis) too was just coming 
into bloom— -a green flower — named after the 

god Mercury, who is said to have discovered 
its virtues. It is rather an inconspicuous 
plant, but well worth examination ; the 
Leontodon taraxacum (Dandelion) I no- 
ticed for the first time, and the sweet violet 
{Viola adorata) — 

"The virgin Violet, 
That nun, who nestling in her cell of leaves, 
Shrinks from the world in rain^:" 

also the Ivy-leaved Speedwell {Veronica 
hedenfolia) and Lesser Celandine (Vicaria 
verna). About 6 o'clock the same evening, 
I for the first time remarked the common 
Bat — March or April being the usual time of 
its appearance. 

' ' On the mountains 
By the fountains, 
In the woodlands dim and grey ; — 
Flowers are springing, souls are singing, 
On heaven's hills— and ye are they !" 

W. Howitt. 



It is curious to watch the progress of 
Humbug ; not only in remote parts of the 
country, but even in the great City of Lon- 
don, where folk ought to be wiser. 

To enumerate the whole, or even a tenth 
part of the humbugs of the day, would fill 
one entire page of our Journal; let us 
therefore select one only to fire at ; and that 
shall be Electro-Biology, a " flash word " for 

On a recent visit to the Hanover Square 
rooms, we found a person rejoicing in the 
name of Darling, — "Doctor" Darling we 
believe he called himself, practising some of 
the greatest follies of which any man could 
be guilty ; and we are pleased to say that a 
great part of his audience seemed cognisant 
of the fact. 

Everybody now-a-days knows something 
of the principle of "Mesmerism," — and few 
can be ignorant that, as a curative process 
(apart from all dabbling with mental pheno- 
mena), much, very much good has been ef- 
fected by it. Indeed, we have ourselves, on 
several occasions, released persons from 
intense suffering, by merely doing what any- 
body else could do — passing our hands over 
the seat of pain without attempting to produce 
sleep. There is nothing " miraculous " in 
this; but it is a humane and delightful dis- 
covery in modern science, and it is gratify- 
ing to know that such curative power does 
exist in our system. This by the way. 

We found on the platform three indi- 
viduals, of the masculine gender ; and " Doc- 
tor " Darling trying hard to convince them 
one by one, that black was white, white was 
black, and cold water was vinegar, &c. &c. 
&c. His patients said "no,"— very fre- 



quently ; but the " Doctor " repeated, witli 
the most violent and hideous gestures, that 
what he said was "the fact." Still, it was 
"no go." A more lamentable piece of 
chicanery and prostitution of intellect(!) 
never came under our observation. We do 
not affirm that we know there was collu- 
sion ; it is not necessary for us to do so. 
But we do say that such miserable exhibi- 
tions as these, got up at the expense of 
science and truth, to promulgate the doc- 
trines of veritable humbug, and gross imposi- 
tion, ought to be exposed. 

If Mesmerism be true ; if any cures, or 
alleviation from pain, have by its agency 
been accomplished — let us rejoice in that 
fact, and make it patent to the world. We 
thereby confer a lasting-benefit on society ; 
but let us not get up " a show," a puppet 
show, or a mountebank exhibition at the 
expense of it — and make money by it ! It 
is the direct way to cast discredit on every 
discovery that has been made, and as such 
we denounce it. 

We do not wish to be severe on " Doctor " 
Darling in particular ; although the contor- 
tions and convulsions of his body, and the 
horrible violence of his gesticulations, were 
sufficiently indicative of the means whereby 
he sought to produce certain diabolical 
effects on the nervous system of his poor 
" patients," — but we war with the whole 
tribe of charlatans. 

Under cover of a new-fangled, jaw-break- 
ing word (Electro-Biology), the public are 
got together in many parts of London to 
see something wonderful (John Bull like) ; 
and the result ends, as usual, in the easing of 
their pockets of loose cash. 

We have lots of other " Doctors " beside 
Darling. There are Brisk, Whisk, - Frisk, 
Disc (who charges Is. extra for a " talis- 
man "), Stone, Moan, Groan, and a host of 
other starving adventurers — all " Doctors! " 
Not one of these Worthies knows anything 
about science, and cares even less for it. 

May their money perish with them ; and 
may all the diabolical follies with which they 
seek to inoculate society be concentred in 
their own silly sconces, and buried with them! 
So long as we can hold a pen, so long will 
we defend the community from the mal- 
practices of such miserable, crawling 

Regent's Park. 

There are few persons ignorant of the 
very beautiful appearance which these 
gardens present in the various seasons of the 
year; and it is only doing common justice to 
Robert Marnock, Esq., F.S.A., by whom 
they were arranged and laid out, and by 

whom they are still superintended, to pay 
him this well-earned tribute of unqualified 
praise. Dr. Balfour a stranger to us, and 
therefore an impartial critic, thus comments 
on the gardens in his printed " Notes," 
Avritten during a recent visit : — Visitors to 
the City of London should not fail to ob- 
tain a peep at the garden of the Royal 
Botanic Society, Regent's Park, where there 
are some features of interest which cannot 
fail to be instructive to all who interest 
themselves (as every gardener ought to do) 
in landscape gardening. Within the limits 
of a by no means extensive garden we have 
a variety of scenery — gardenesque and pic- 
turesque — all of the most interesting cha- 
racter, and displaying the results of a correct 
taste such as is not daily met with in works 
of art. The quiet seclusion of the lake, and 
the manner in which the whole grounds are 
laid out, convey to the visitor's mind an im- 
pression that the grounds are of an exten- 
sive character, such as is by no means the 
case ; and some of the most sequestered 
nooks whose seclusion the visitor is apt to 
regard as obtained by the sacrifice of a wide 
extent of surrounding grounds, in reality 
verge upon the very limits of the garden, and 
are within two or three feet of the public 

The ground forming the garden was, we 
believe, originally quite level; but the well- 
directed ingenuity of Mr. Marnock has 
broken it up in a hundred different ways, and 
with so just a conception of the natural, that 
an accomplished geologist might readily 
depict in imagination the phenomena at- 
tending the upheaving of the miniature 
mountains, and the sinking of the hollows, 
without dreaming that they are the result of 
human labors. 

The ivied bridges and other rustic objects 
that are introduced, are in good keeping 
with the surrounding scenery, and serve to 
heighten its picturesque character. Here, 
the artists of London ought to repair to 
study nature ; they will find the elements of 
landscape beauty arranged to their hands, 
and in combinations calculated to correct 
their views of the beautiful and the pictu- 
resque as they are exhibited in nature. 

In England the expansive flat country pre- 
sented to the eye, with its monotonous clus- 
ters of trees, is unfavorable for exhibiting 
those " views " and small bits of exquisite 
scenery, which perpetually open up upon the 
traveller in Scotland : hence the acknow- 
ledged tameness of English scenery ; in it 
the charms of variety and decisiveness of 
character which so enchant the imagination, 
are entirely wanting. 

The new conservatory in the Regent's 
Park Garden is a magnificent object; but it 
is intended to add considerably to its extent. 



While exhibiting a light appearance, suffi- 
cient taste has been displayed in giving it 
architectural beauty. We believe it is mainly 
intended for the exhibition of camellias, 
heaths, and other conservatory plants, some- 
what in the same manner as the winter 
garden structure in the experimental garden 
of Edinburgh ; but it contains many plants 
of botanical interest, including tropical 
shrubs and trees, young tree ferns, &c, 
which have been planted" in it to remain as 
permanent specimens. 

The " Victoria House" — a small span- 
roofed structure — was the one that perhaps 
received most attention from us, notwith- 
standing the very oppressive heat of its 
humid atmosphere. A fine plant of the 
Victoria was flourishing in the tank most 
beautifully, and presented a better appear- 
ance at the time of our visit than any other 
individual of this royal plant which we had 
the pleasure to see in the neighborhood of 
London. The leaves were finely developed, 
most perfectly margined, and their under- 
sides of a rich reddish crimson. Associated 
with the royal water lily, were a number of 
other stove aquatics, including various spe- 
cies of Nymphaia, the aquatic fern Ceratop- 
teris thalictroides, Po?itederias, Limnocharis, 
the rice plant, and many others. 

The royal water lily seemed to be an 
object of great attraction to the numerous 
visitors that frequented the garden, all 
turning in the direction that led to the Vic- 
toria House. The botanical arrangement 
in the garden cannot fail to be serviceable to 
students ; along the margin of the lake we 
noticed a few interesting native plants, such, 
for instance, as the rare Cyperus longus, 
which was growing at the water's edge in 
great luxuriance. These random notes from 
memory convey but a meagre idea of the 
aspect presented by the garden on a hasty 


In Two Chapters. — Chap. I. 

Had she been but a daughter of mine 
I'd have taught her to hem to and sew ; 
But her mother, a charming woman, 
Coidd not attend to such trifles, you know. 

Song— Charming Woman. 

« Why on earth, Cornelia, do you persist 
in having that child taught music V said Mr. 
Langtree to his sister ; ' she has not a par- 
ticle of talent for it, and hates it to boot.' 

' I never saw a child yet that was fond of 
practising,' replied Mrs. Robinson coldly. 
' Upon the same principle, that i she does 
not like it,' I suppose I am to give up arith- 
metic and grammar with music' 

' Not at all. They are necessary, and, 
beside, require no peculiar talent to acquire,' 

answered Mr. Langtree. ' If Fanny had any 
ear, I would not say a word in opposition to 
your present system. But here she has 
been practising an hour, and has certainly 
struck two false notes to one true. It is 
enough to put one's teeth on edge to hear 
her,' continued Mr. Langtree, whose nice 
musical sense had undergone torture during 
the aforesaid hour. 

' What are false notes, uncle ?' said the 
little girl, quitting the piano as she heard 
the last words of the above dialogue. ' My 
teacher scolds me so about them, and I sing 
as well as I can — I am sure I do not know 
what he meant.' 

4 Come to the piano, and let me see if I 
can show you,' said Mr. Langtree, good-hu- 
moredly, and, running his fingers over the 
keys, hummed a few bars first correctly and 
then incorrectly, pointing out the difference 
to the child, who shook her little head as 
she answered to his. 

* Don't you see it now ?' 

' I see it, but I don't hear it.' 

4 I don't know what you mean by seeing 
and not hearing, Fanny,' said Mr. Langtree. 

4 Why,' said she, 'jwnen I look at the piano 
I see you do not strike the same keys, but it 
sounds to me all the same.' 

' Ah, well,' said her uncle, quitting the 
instrument, - you are tired and stupid now, 
may be you will comprehend better another 

4 No,' said Mrs. Robinson, approaching 
them and fixing a severe look upon her 
daughter ; ' Fanny is not stupid, but she is 
naughty; it is nothing but wilfulness and 
laziness, and I'll cure her of both,' she added 
with emphasis. ' You have practised very 
ill, miss, and as I told you, you shall not go 
out to-day, nor have any desert after dinner, 
and now go and prepare your French lesson 
— not a word,' she added imperiously, seeing 
the child about to speak, ' but do as I bid 

Tears started from the little girl's eyes as 
she obeyed in silence. 

4 Poor Fan !' said her uncle, as the door 
closed upon her. * I am sorry my inter- 
ference has procured her this punishment, 
which she certainly does not merit, and, 
moreover, the nature of which I do not 
like. You are making her already attach 
most undue importance to her meals, which 
will end in her being a perfect little epicure.' 

Mrs. Robinson colored as she answered, 

' She is punished for wilfulness and in- 
attention. I do not see what your interfer- 
ence has to do with the matter.' 

4 I do, if you do not,' replied her brother, 
coolly. ' You are angry with me because I 
said Fanny had no talent, and that your 
system of education is wrong ; but, as you 
cannot make me go without my desert for 



saying so, therefore poor Fan must pay the 
penalty. It is just what I have always said, 
that nine times out of ten, when a child is 
punished, it is the parent, and not the child, 
Avho deserves it.' 

Mrs. Robinson felt herself too angry to 
reply immediately to this, and after a few 
minutes' silence she only said, 

' I know you have very peculiar notions, 
as most old bachelors have. According to 
your views, I should let Fanny grow up 
without any education at all.' 

' No,' he replied ; ' but you should con- 
sult nature in the undertaking, and not 
darken the brightest and freshest period of 
her existence by forcing her to learn what it 
is not in her nature to acquire.' 

' Consult nature !' repeated his sister, con- 
temptuously, * What's a child's nature ? — 
to play with a doll and eat sugar-plums ; and 
am I, forsooth, to let her play with dolls and 
eat sugar-plums for the rest of her days ?' 

' No,' he replied ; ' but you are not to 
make her shed unnecessary tears, for which 
the future may have no compensation. God 
only knows what bitter drops she may be 
called upon to weep hereafter, and were she 
a daughter of mine, I would secure sunshine 
and happiness for her childhood, the only 
portion of life that is within a parent's con- 
trol, and for the happiness of which he is re- 

4 Phsaw,' said Mrs. Robinson, impatiently, 
1 you do attach so much importance to a 
child's tears. Fan's are dried ere now, I'll 
answer for it ; the dew-drop on the rose is 
not more evanescent.' 

' A very pretty simile, which suits those 
who are careless about causing them,' pur- 
sued Mr. Langtree ; ' the thorn upon the 
rose would be more accurate — tiny, but 
sharp. That childhood's sorrows are eva- 
nescent is one of God's providences, for if 
they were as lasting as they are keen, the ear- 
liest years of our lives would be wretched 
indeed. Let any one look back to their own 
youth, and if they have any memory at all 
they will remember some of the bitterest 
griefs they have ever known. If I had 
children, I would certainly study their young 
hearts and consult their natures more than I 
think is generally done.' 

* I wish to heaven you had, and half a 
dozen of them,' thought Mrs. Robinson, 
' and then you would soon be cured of these 
fine notions ;' but she only said aloud, ' Then 
I am to dismiss Fanny's masters, and let her 
run wild by way of securing her this c sun- 
shine ' you talk of.' 

* You are not to cram her with what she 
never can digest; force accomplishments 
upon her for which she has no talent, nor, 
above all, punish her for having no ear.' 

' She has ears enough,' said Mrs. Robinson, 

haughtily, ( if she only chooses to open 
them.' Perseverance and application are all 
that are needed to make children learn any 
thing you choose to teach them.' 

' Then you recognise no original difference 
in capacities nor peculiar gifts of nature ?' 
remarked Mr. Langtree. 

' Certainly I do,' replied his sister; ' but 
they are rare — genius of the highest grade, 
for instance, like beauty. Fanny is no 
beauty, and I do not expect to make her 
one ; that is a direct gift from Heaven, but,' 
added she, with an expression of the utmost 
determination, ' I can make her accomplished 
and I will.'' 

1 In spite of nature and thanks to no one,' 
said Mr. Langtree, laughing. ' Well, we will 
see who will conquer.' 

Mrs. Robinson was a widow with an only 
child, the little Fanny, whose education has 
already been discussed so much at large, and 
whose career she was resolved should realise 
the visions that had been disappointed in 
her own. Like most persons, she deter- 
mined that all the defects of her own edu- 
cation should be remedied in that of her 
child. She was not accomplished, therefore 
Fanny should be, and she had married poor, 
but so should not Fanny. With a craving 
vanity and restless ambition, that nothing 
had yet satisfied, she attributed all the mor- 
tifications she had met with to want of early 
culture, and believed that she could have sung 
like a Malibran and talked like a Corinna, 
if her mother had only pursued the system 
she intended for Fanny, and that had not her 
parents yielded to her foolish fancy for the 
first young man that had addressed her, she 
might now have been at the head of some 
brilliant establishment where she would have 
had that distinction her heart panted for. In 
short, Fanny's belleship and Fanny's mar- 
riage were to be that ' balm of Gilead' which 
she had not yet found on earth. Wo to the 
child whose future is expected to do so much ! 
The different hours were only marked by dif- 
ferent studies, and play and relaxation would 
have been left altogether out of the scheme, 
had not Mr. Langtree kindly hinted at the 
bright eyes and glowing tints to be acquired 
through them alone. 

Mr. Langtree saw that all these expecta- 
tions were probably doomed to disappoint- 
ment, for his little niece was as like what her 
father had been, as he recollected him a boy 
at school, as it was possible to imagine, and 
certainly never were husband and wife more 
unlike than Mr. and Mts. Robinson proved 
to be. He had been a plain, kind-hearted, 
honest man, as obtuse and good-humored as 
his wife was restless and ambitious. They 
had jogged on together a few years at oppo- 
site ends of the chain, which galled her but 
never troubled him, as he might rather be 



compared to the anchor of which she was the 
buoy, the cable of which being suddenly- 
snapped asunder she would have sailed down 
the stream of time, uncontrolled and un- 
hampered, had she not been arrested by the 
strong hand of poverty. Small means are 
great soberers. Mrs. Eobinson found her- 
self compelled to cut her pattern to her 
cloth, that is, live quietly, and in compara- 
tive obscurity. She had formerly fumed at 
her husband, but there was no use in chafing 
now against circumstances. She had only 
to submit. Her brother resided with her, 
and for the sake of his income she was com- 
pelled to put up with his advice, which, 
luckily for Fanny, always came to the side 
of good sense and humanity. 

; Well, Fanny love,' said her uncle, whose 
kind heart mourned over the punishment he 
had unwarily drawn upon her ; ' dry your 
eyes. If you would like to go to the opera 
with me this evening, I'll take you.' 

' No, thank you, uncle,' said the little girl ; 
' all those big fiddles make such a noise 
that they make my head ache.' 

' Why you monkey,' said Mr Langtree, 
laughing, ' to call such music ' noise.' No 
matter, if you don't want to go you shan't. If 
there is any thing else you would like to 
have you had better speak quick, for I 
am in good humor now.' 

1 Oh,' said the child, throwing her arms 
round his neck, - yes, there is the prettiest 
pattern for working in worsteds at a shop in 
the arcade. It is a little dog with long ears 
and something in his mouth, I don't know 
what exactly,' (it would have puzzled older 
people to determine) and on Fanny went in 
her description, getting quite excited with 
the recollection, when suddenly she stopped, 
and her countenance changed as she said 
sorrowfully, ' but I suppose mamma would 
not let me work it if you were to give it to me.' 

'Why not?' inquired her uncle. 

' Because, 1 she said, turning her earnest 
young face toward him, ' she never lets me 
sew. She says it makes me stoop, and 
besides is a loss of time. Oh,' continued she, 
with animation, ' how I mean to sew, when I 
have got through with learning every thing !' 

Mr. Langtree only laughed and said, 

' Well, I am glad you have decided against 
the opera, for it is beginning to rain.' 

' Is it ?' said Fanny in an accent of disap- 
pointment, ' oh ! I am so sorry. Now I shall 
not be able to go to Sunday-school to -morrow.' 

' What is to prevent you ?' 

' Mamma never lets me go in bad weather, 
as she says I will take cold. But I never 
take cold when I go in the rain to take my 
dancing lesson, and so I should not think I 
would now — would you?' she said, inno- 
cently turning to her uncle, who only smiled 
in silence. 

And thus Fanny's education went on, and 
at the age of sixteen she was very much what 
she had been at six, neither musician nor 
dancer ; speaking French, but hating French- 
men, a simple-hearted, straightforward good 
girl, without either taste or talents for so- 
ciety, and loving her uncle Langtree better 
than any one in the world, and only longing 
for a time to come when she should be 
married, that ' mother need not fuss about 
her dress or care how she looked ;' for, she 
said to her old confidant, Mr. Langtree, 

' Mother always wants me to look better 
than I can ; and there is no use in that, 
is there ?' 

' None in the world, I should think,' said 
Mr. Langtree, with a hearty burst of laughter, 
highly diverted at the form in which Fanny 
had couched her mother's ambitious and 
somewhat unreasonable expectations. 

A Whisper in a Mother's Ear. 

Mothers! Listen! — Being once in company 
with a mother and her three children, we ob- 
served one of them, a boy about six years old, 
who was particularly unruly and mischievous. 
At one act of his rudeness, his mother, beino- 
somewhat excited, turned to him and threatened 
to punish him severely if he should repeat it. In 
a few minutes, the little fellow did precisely the 
same thing, and as the mother did not notice it, 
we ventured to say to him, " Did you not hear 
your mother say she would punish you if you 
did that again ? " — The urchin, with the ex- 
pression of a bravado on his countenance, 
quickly replied, "I'm not afraid; mother often 
says she'll whip me\ but she don't do it." The 
mother smiled, as if her little boy had really 
said a smart thing; but, alas! she was teaching 
him a lesson of insubordination which would 
probably make her heart ache. Mothers, never 
unnecessarily threaten ! but when you do threaten, 
be careful not to falsify your ivord. — Family He- 
rald. [Whenever we witness such scenes as 
these, and they are of hourly occurrence, we 
should like to see the parent punished instead of 
the child. How very many children there are, 
who live to curse their parents!] 


The Locust is a species of the Gryllus genus, 
in which genus are included the common grass- 
hopper and cricket. Most warm countries are 
subject to the devastation of these terrible insects, 
for terrible they are, destroying all appearance 
of vegetation wherever they alight, even stripping 
the leaves from the trees. Locusts are used for 
food; the Arabs, and also the Moors, hunt them, 
and after frying them in oil, sell them publicly. 

London : Published by George Berger, 19, Holywell 
Street, Strand (to whom all Letters and Communica- 
tions. Sealed and Addressed to" the Editor," and Books 
for Heview, are to be forwarded) ; and Procurable, 
by order, of every Bookseller and Newsvendor in the 


Conducted by WILLIAM KIDD, of Hammersmith,— 

Author of the Familiar and Popular Essays on "Natural History;" "British Song 

Birds;" "Birds of Passage;" "Instinct and Reason;" 

" The Aviary and its Occupants," &c. 

"the OBJECT of our work is to make men WISER, WITHOUT obliging them to turn over folios and 


No. 11.— 1852. 


Price \\d. 

Or, in Monthly Parts, Price Id. 


Give me but 
Something whereunto I may bind my heart, 
Something to love, to rest upon,— to clasp 
Affection's tendrils round. Mrs. Hemans. 

Introductory Chapter. 

We are aware that the very extensive 
Series of Papers which we have undertaken 
to write on this most popular and prolific 
subject, are looked forward to with great 
anxiety ; and when we consider the many 
thousands of individuals to whom such 
matters are of every-day moment, the task 
is an important one. 

It must not be imagined, that because we 
instruct persons how to select their birds, 
and how to treat them when in confinement 
— we are therefore advocates for their im- 
prisonment. No : this we repudiate alto- 
gether. The whole tenor of our remarks in 
the columns of the Gardeners' Chronicle for 
many years past, will prove the contrary. 
"We would not, were it in our power to pre- 
vent it, have any bird, excepting the 
Canary (which is a lawful and happy cap- 
tive), deprived of its liberty, and doomed to 
pine in captivity. But as people will keep 
birds, be it our grateful task to ameliorate 
their captivity. 

We are a true Waterton at heart, and 
love to see every one of the feathered tribe 
in the full enjoyment of that liberty which 
is their native right. Then are their songs, 
songs of joy, — their tameness in our gardens 
is a mark of confidence ; their residence in 
our grounds a proof of affection ; their com- 
panionship a matter of inexpressible delight. 
All these enjoyments have been ours ; they 

* By an arrangement entered into with the Proprietors 
of the Gardeners' Chronicle Newspaper, all Mr. 
Kidb's popular Articles on " British Song Birds " and 
" Natural History," which appeared in their Paper, have 
now become his own property by purchase. They will 
all be Rc-printed in this Journal, with many New and 
Important Additions. 

will continue to be ours. Excepting a few 
choice canaries — perhaps unrivalled for the 
excellence of their music, not a bird of any 
kind have we immured within prison walls. 
Our aviary was long since dismantled, and 
nought now remains to us but the pleasant 
memory of the past. We loved our birds, 
and they loved us. 

It will hardly be surmised that we could 
have written so many years for the Gar- 
deners' Chronicle, without receiving during 
that time, from all quarters of the world, in- 
formation of the most valuable kind con- 
nected with Natural History. This we have 
treasured up carefully, and we shall place 
the whole at the disposal of our readers ; 
interweaving it, as we go on, in our general 

By Naturalists generally, we have been 
highly complimented on the extent of our 
practical knowledge ; and we have received 
a universal vote of thanks from them, for 
having put down and silenced certain 
visionary theorists, who are opposed to all 
new discoveries simply because they are 
beyond their own shallow comprehension. 
This mode of action we shall still pursue ; for 
science is progressive, and every successive 
week brings something novel and interesting 
before our view. 

As every eye has been on us and our 
Avritings for so long a period, and many 
cavillers have been ready to pounce upon us 
the moment we committed any error of 
speech — it is a cause of rejoicing with us 
that we have achieved so signal a triumph. 
Moreover, it gives the public confidence in 
us as their future Guide. i 

We bring to the subject we have under- 
taken to discuss, a long and very interesting 
experience ; and, as we travel onwards, we 
shall be able to introduce a multitude of 
anecdotes that will prove of no little in- 
terest to our readers. 

We have placed on record more than 
once, the opinion, that people who love 
dumb animals are seldom unworthy raem- 

Vol. I.— New Series. 



bers of society ; whereas, cruelty, or indif- 
ference to their little winning ways argues a 
disposition anything but amiable, and all but 
universally repulsive. A naturally-affec- 
tionate disposition is our delight. Where we 
find it, we feel " at home " in an instant. 
Such are our sentiments. We shall proceed 
to the discussion of our general subject next 


A Vade-mecum for Fly-Fishing for Trout ; 
with copious Instructions for making Arti- 
ficial Flies, dc. By. G. P. R. Pulman. 
Third Edition. 12mo. 

This is a book which must rejoice the 
heart of all true lovers of the Waltonian 
sport. It is not a dry compilation from old 
musty volumes, but the original production 
of a heart alive to all the beauties of 
Nature. It contains indeed, beautifully ex- 
pressed, every possible information on the 
subject of which it treats, with admirable 
instructions for making Flies, and dressing 
hooks (excellently illustrated by wood-cut 
fac-similes) ; and it leaves nothing unsaid 
that is at all needful to be known. This 
alone stamps it with a lasting value. 

But we are most pleased with the amiable 
spirit that pervades the volume ; the lover 
of the Angle is also a lover of Nature. 
When these go together, what a pleasant, 
what a delightful pastime is Trout fishing ! 
We can even now imagine ourselves, at 
early dawn, setting out for the glorious 
sport. But as our space is valuable, and this 
book will keep (we must inevitably quote 
from it again hereafter), we now content 
ourselves with subjoining the author's rea- 
sons for writing it. They are well worthy 
perusal. He says — 

We have written this book from an ardent 
love of the art on which it treats, and from the 
desire of enabling others to partake of its mani- 
fold enjoyments. In this work-a-day world, it 
is something to find an innocent amusement for 
oneself, and to contribute to the amusement of 
others. It is contrary to the mental and phy- 
sical conformation of mankind to labor or to 
study incessantly — to be perpetually engaged in 
any of the ordinary every-day affairs of life, 
without paying the penalty in the shape of shat- 
tered health of body or of mind. People are not 
yet so much inured to a highly artificial state of 
society— and never will be — as to be able to dis- 
pense altogether with recreation ; nor have the 
woods and fields, the mountain and the stream, 
the birds and the flowers, and the thousand 
other objects of all-beauteous nature, yet lost 
their fascinating influences — however much we 
may be involved in the intricacies of social life 
and in the active duties which more or less de- 
volve upon us all. There are times when brain 
and sinew, mind and muscle, call aloud for rest 
and change, and need recruiting ere their func- 

tions can be properly continued. An amuse- 
ment which draws its votaries away from the 
scenes of their labors into contact with external 
nature, in all its innocence and beauty — which 
supersedes the too often sensual " pleasures" 
which can never be its efficient substitute — is a 
blessing to the individuals who adopt it, and to 
their connections also, so long as it is consist- 
ently pursued. 

Such an amusement is that on which we have 
written these chapters. In all ages some of the 
best and wisest of men have not only been the 
stanchest advocates of angling, but also have 
ranked among its best and most enthusiastic 
practitioners. It would give us unfeigned hap- 
piness to know, at any time, that our humble 
labors were the means of extending, however 
little, the practice of that delightful art — of ini- 
tiating however few into its guileless mysteries 
— and thus of enabling them to experience those 
pleasures which it is capable of affording so 
largely, and which, from childhood upwards, we 
have ourselves so abundantly enjoyed. 

When we read the above, how many 
happy reminiscences of early days are con- 
jured up in our imagination ! We live again, 
in these days gone by ; and feel younger 
than ever. Why not ? 

In Two Chapters.— Chap. II. 

The comparison which has been drawn 
between the attachments shown in the pairing 
of birds, and the affections of the human species, 
is borne out by many striking corroborations, 
but in no case is it more markedly apparent 
than in the pigeon tribe. This natural family of 
birds, comprising the pigeon, dove, and turtle, 
is found, with very few exceptions, to be grega- 
rious, living together both in the wild and do- 
mesticated state, in large flocks. When, how- 
ever, the season of love approaches, they pah- 
together, and the male and female continue 
thenceforth to manifest a degree of attachment 
and mutual fidelity, the strength and ardor of 
which have long been proverbial. They work 
jointly in the construction of the nest, and after 
this preparatory work has been completed, and 
the female has laid her eggs, each takes by turns 
the charge of the nest during incubation, and 
share alike in the nurture and rearing of the 

Contrary to the natural habits of most other 
birds, pigeons lay only two eggs at a time, and 
when the young pigeons have been hatched and 
reared so as to be able to take care of themselves, 
the faithful pair instead of separating, as is 
usual with the feathered tribe, maintain their 
attachment, and repeatedly incubate during the 
year. There is something peculiarly winning in 
the gentle cooing of the pigeon to its mate ; 
while, when the two are together, they are seen 
frequently putting their bills together like two fond 
lovers, and consorting themselves with such evi- 
dent symptoms of mutual affection that the 
phrase " billing and cooing " has come to be a 

familiar one in reference to the fond dalliance 
of happy pairs. 

The great difference in the hatching of insect 
eggs, contrasted with those of birds, as well as 
the nature of the wants of young birds and the 
means of supplying them, compared with the 
offspring of quadrupeds, abundantly account for 
the fidelity to the parental duties thus peculiarly 
manifested by birds. The labor of building the 
nest requires the conjoint aid of the male and 
female ; and when this ingenious structure has 
been completed, and the eggs disposed on its 
soft lining, they would, in most cases, perish 
were the female unrelieved in brooding. 

But it is not a mere share of labor that is un- 
dertaken by the feathered pair; the affectionate 
interchange of attention is manifested in the 
most engaging ways. Sometimes the male is 
seen to bring food to the brooding hen ; at other 
times he perches himself on a neighboring bough, 
and solaces her with his most cheerful and sweetest 
notes. Then he will take her place and con- 
tinue the maternal duties, while she roams 
abroad for a short time in search of needful food 
and exercise. 

The perseverance and instinctive ingenuity of 
birds in the building of their nests, is truly ad- 
mirable. Among familiar instances of the in- 
genuity of the feathered tribe, the nest of the 
song-thrush is well deserving of selection. The 
parent birds, having selected a convenient spot 
on the branch of a tree, proceed to lay their 
foundation with moss or fine fern. Into this 
they weave grass and straw, or root -fibres, 
twining them together, and interlacing the raised 
sides like a piece of basket-work. The interior 
is then shaped by the breast of the animal into a 
neat and uniform hollow, not unlike a breakfast 
tea-cup, and by means of a cement, composed 
chiefly of decayed wood, mixed with their own 
saliva, the whole is cemented internally, so as to 
be perfectly smooth and water-tight, and as re- 
gular as if finished on a turning lathe. In this 
dry and hard bowl the eggs are laid, without 
any softer lining ; so that, when the nest is has- 
tily moved, or shaken by the wind in the absence 
of the parent birds, the eggs may be heard to 
rattle on the sides. The song-thrush displays 
considerable diversity of taste in the choice of a 
place for building its nest, choosing sometimes 
a tall fir-tree, at others a holly or hawthorn bush, 
and sometimes even a furze bush, or the tall 
grass on a raised fence. It has also been ob- 
served, in some few instances, to build in an 
ivied wall, or in an outhouse. 

A very great diversity is apparent in the 
choice of materials for the nests even of our 
commonest native birds ; so that the naturalist 
can tell by the nest, as readily as by the eggs, the 
character of the little builders. Grahame, the 
Scottish poet, gives interesting and minute de- 
scriptions of these in his " Birds of Scotland." 
The yellow-hammer, for example, a bird common 
in Scotland, combines in its ingenious process 
of nest-building the basket-work of interweaved 
roots and grass for the exterior, and the felting 
with soft moss, hair, and wool in the inside. The 
usual site of its nest is in the hedge-row, or in 
some low bush; but it also frequently builds 
among tufts of reeds, or in the mossy clumps 

on the broken banks of a stream. The poet thus 
refers to its native habits in the spring: — 

" Up from the ford, a little bank there was, 
With alder-copse and willow overgrown, 
Now worn away by mining winter floods ; 
There, at a bramble root, sunk in the grass, 
The hidden prize, of withered field straws 

Well lined with many a coil of hair and moss, 
And in it laid five red-veined eggs, I found," 

Were we to examine the ingenious arts of the 
nest-builders of various countries, we should find 
a theme of interest which would require volumes 
to exhaust it. The instincts by which insects 
provide for the safety of their progeny, are in no 
degree more remarkable than those of the fea- 
thered tribes. 

The tailor-bird of Hindostan, for example, 
gathers cotton from the shrubs, spins it to a 
thread by means of its feet and long bill, and 
then employing its bill as an awl, it sews the 
large leaves of an Indian tree together so as to 
protect and conceal its young. Cotton, as an 
article of manufacture, is quite of modern intro- 
duction to Europe; yet long before the capa- 
bilities of this invaluable plant had been dis- 
covered by us, the instinct of this little bird had 
guided it to its use, and the cotton thread was 
annually employed in the completion of its nest. 

The remarkable structures reared by the soci- 
able grosbeak must be familiar to most readers, 
from the numerous engravings of them which, 
exist. They appear like a great bird-city, 
having many approaches, each with the nests 
constructed under the caves, as in a covered pas- 
sage, neatly built, of what is called the Bosh- 
man's Grass, so firmly basketed together as to 
be impervious to rain. 

Another species, the pensile grosbeak, suspends 
its curious pendant nest from the end of the 
branch of a tree; generally over water, and with 
the entrance by means of a long cylindrical 
passage from below. The little builder is only 
about the size of our common sparrow, yet this 
pendant passage to its nest frequently measures 
fifteen inches long. 

Another remarkable example of a similar 
class of nests, is furnished by the Indian toddy- 
bird, or baya, thus described by Forbes : — " The 
baya, or bottle-nested sparrow, is remarkable for 
its pendant nest, brilliant plumage, and uncom- 
mon sagacity. These birds are found in most 
parts of Hindostan ; in shape they resemble the 
sparrow, as also in the brown feathers of the back 
and wings ; the head and breast of a bright yel- 
low, and in the rays of a tropical sun have a 
splendid appearance, when flying by thousands 
in the same grove ; they make a chirping noise, 
but have no song ; they associate in large 
communities, and cover extensive clumps of pal- 
myras, acacias, and date-trees with their nests. 
These are formed, in a very ingenious manner 
by long grass woven together in the shape of a 
bottle, and suspended by the other end to the ex- 
tremity of a flexible branch, the more effectually to 
secure the eggs and young brood from serpents, 
monkeys, squirrels, and birds of prey. These 
nests contain several apartments, appropriated 
to different purposes: in one, the hen performs 



the office of incubation ; another, consisting of 
a little thatched roof and covering a perch, 
without a bottom, is occupied by the male, who, 
with his chirping note, cheers the female during 
her maternal duties." 

The object of these ingenious builders appears 
to be to protect their young against squirrels, 
serpents, and numerous other deadly enemies, 
against whose force they thus oppose a more 
effective defence than superior strength and 
watchfulness could furnish. 


"He who opposes his own judgment against the con- 
sent of the times, ought to be backed with unanswerable 
Truths ; and he who has Truth on his side is a fool, 
as well as a Coward, if he is afraid to own it because of 
the currency or multitude of other men's opinions." — 


Hitherto Dr. Gall had resorted only to Phy- 
siognomical indications, as a means of discover- 
ing the functions of the brain. On reflection, 
however, he was convinced that Physiology was 
imperfect when separated from Anatomy. Having 
observed a woman of fifty-four years of age, who 
had been afflicted with hydrocephalus from her 
youth, and who, with a body a little shrunk, 
possessed a mind as active and intelligent as that 
of other individuals of her class, Dr. Gall declares 
his conviction that the structure of the brain 
must be different from what was generally con- 
ceived, — a remark which Tulpius also had made, 
on observing a hydrocephalic patient, who mani- 
fested the mental faculties. He therefore felt the 
necessity of making anatomical researches into 
the structure of the brain. 

In every instance, when an individual whose 
head he had observed while alive happened to 
die, he used every means to be permitted to 
examine the brain, and frequently did examine 
it; and he found as a general fact, that on re- 
moval of the skull, the brain, covered by the 
dura mater, presented a form corresponding to 
that which the skull had exhibited in life. 

The successive steps by which Dr. Gall pro- 
ceeded in his discoveries are particularly de- 
serving of attention. He did not, as many have 
imagined, first dissect the brain, and pretend by 
that means to have discovered the seats of the 
mental powers; neither did he, as others have 
conceived, first map out the skull into various 
compartments, and assign a faculty to each 
" according as his imagination led him to con- 
ceive the place appropriate to the power." On 
the contrary, he first observed a concomitance 
betwixt particular talents and dispositions, and 
particular forms of the head : he next ascer- 
tained, by removal of the skull, that the figure 
and size of the brain are indicated by these ex- 
ternal forms; and it was only after these facts 
were determined, that the brain was minutely 
dissected, and light thrown upon its structure. 

Dr. Gall was first known as an author by the 
publication of two chapters of an extensive work, 
entitled " Philosophisch-medicinischeUntersuch- 
ungen iiber Natur und Kunst im gesunden und 
kranken Zustande des Menschen, Wien, 1791." 

The continuation of this work has never appear- 
ed ; but, in the first of the two chapters printed, 
he has evinced the spirit with which his re- 
searches into the moral and intellectual nature of 
man were subsequently conducted. The first 
written notice of his inquiries concerning the 
head appeared in a familiar letter to Baron 
Ketzer, which was inserted in the German perio- 
dical journal " Deutschen Mercur," in Decem- 
ber, 1798. In this letter he announces the 
publication of a work upon his views concerning 
the brain; but circumstances induced him to 
alter his intention. 

In reading it, one will be surprised to find con- 
tained in so few pages, written so long ago, all 
the principles of the physiology of the brain. 
It will be observed, that Gall clearly defined the 
object of his researches; to wit, a knowledge of 
the brain in relation to the fundamental qualities 
of man, illustrated by that of the instincts and 
propensities of animals in connection with their 
cerebral organisation. Our readers will perceive 
in it all the useful applications which he pro- 
posed to make of his new doctrines to medicine, 
to morals, to legislation, to everything, in a 
word, which relates to the physical, moral, and 
intellectual nature of man. 

This paper is a valuable document for the 
history of the science, and should convince every 
one that to Gall alone belongs the honor of 
having discovered the true physiology of the brain. 

Letter from Dr. F. J. Gall, to Joseph Fr. De 
Retzer, upon the Functions of the Brain, in 
Man and Animals. 

I have at last the pleasure, my dear Retzer, 
of presenting you a sketch of my " Treatise upon 
the Functions of the Brain;" and upon the pos- 
sibility of distinguishing some of the dispositions 
and propensities by the shape of the head and 
the skull. I have observed, that many men of 
talent and learning awaited with confidence the 
result of my labors, while others set me down as 
a visionary, or a dangerous innovator. 

But, to the subject : my purpose is to ascer- 
tain the functions of the brain in general, and 
those of its different parts in particular; to show 
that it is possible to ascertain different dispo- 
sitions and inclinations by the elevations and 
depressions upon the head ; and to present in a 
clear light the most important consequences 
which result therefrom to medicine, morality, 
education, and legislation — in a word, to the 
science of human nature. 

The particular design of my work is to mark 
the historical outline of my researches; to lay 
down the principles, and to show their applica- 
tion. You will readily conceive, that the stud}' 
of the real springs of thought and action in man, 
is an arduous undertaking. Whether I succeed 
or not, I shall count upon your indulgence and 
support, if only on account of the hardihood of 
the enterprise. 

Be so good as to recollect, that I mean by the 
brain or cranium, the bony box which contains 
the brain; and of this, only those parts which 
are immediately in contact with it. And do not 
blame me for not making use of the language of 
Kant. I have not made progress enough in my 
researches to discover the particular organ for 



sagacity, for depth, for imagination, for the dif- 
ferent kinds of judgment, &c. I have even been 
sometimes wanting precision in the definition of 
my ideas, my object being to make known to a 
large number of readers the importance of my 

The whole of the work is divided into two 
parts, which together make about ten sheets. 

Part I. 

contains the principles. I start with my readers 
from that point to which nature had conducted 
me. After having collected the result of my 
tedious experiments, I have built up a theory of 
their laws of relation. I hasten to lay before 
you the fundamental principles. 

/. The Faculties and the Propensities innate 
in Man and Animals. 

You surely are not the man to dispute this 
ground with me; but, follower of Minerva, you 
should be armed to defend her cause. Should it 
appear from my system, that we are rather 
slaves to, than masters of our actions, consequently 
dependent upon our natural impulses, and 
should it bo asked what becomes of liberty ? and 
how can the good or evil we do, be attributed 
to us ? — I shall be permitted to give you the 
answer, by extracting it literally from my pre- 
face. You can strengthen the argument by your 
metaphysical and theological knowledge.* 

Those who would persuade themselves that 
our dispositions (or qualities) are not innate, 
would attribute them to education. But have 
we not alike acted passively, whether we have 
been formed by our innate dispositions, or by 
education? By this objection they confound 
the ideas of faculties, inclinations, and simple 
disposition, with the mode of action itself. The 
animals themselves are not altogether subject to 
their dispositions and propensities. Strong as 
may be the instinct of the dog to hunt, of the cat 
to catch mice, repeated punishments will, never- 
theless, prevent the action of their instincts! 
Birds repair their nests when injured ; 'and bees 
cover with wax any carrion which they cannot 
remove. But Man possesses, besides the animal 
qualities, the faculty of speech, and unlimited 
educability — two inexhaustible sources of know- 
ledge and action. He has the sentiment of truth 
and error, of right and wrong ; the past and the 
future may influence his action; he is endowed 
with moral feeling, with conscience, &c. Thus 
armed, man may combat his inclinations : these 
indeed have always attractions, which lead to 
temptation ; but they are not so strong that they 
cannot be subdued and kept under by other and 
stronger inclinations which are opposed to 
them. You have a voluptuous disposition, but, 
having good morals, conjugal affection, health, 
regard for society and for religion, as your 

* Philosophy, says Abercrombie, wisely — fails "of its 
noblest object if it does not lead us to God: and, what- 
ever may be its pretensions, that is unworthy of the 
name of science which professes to trace the sequences 
of nature, and yet fails to discover, as if marked by a 
sunbeam, the mighty hand which arranged them all; 
which fails to bow in humble adoration before the power 
and wisdom, 1he harmony and beauty, which pervade all 
the works of Him who is eternal. — Ed. K. J. 

preservatives, you resist it. It is only this 
struggle against the propensities which gives 
rise to virtue, to vice, and moral responsibility. 
What would that self-denial, so much recom- 
mended, amount to, if it did not suppose a 
combat with ourselves? and then, the more we 
multiply and fortify the preservatives, the more 
man gains in moral liberty. The stronger 
the internal propensities, the stronger should be 
the preservatives; from them result the neces- 
sities and the utility of the most intimate 
knowledge of man, of the theory of the origin of 
his faculties and inclinations, of education, laws, 
rewards, punishments, and religion. But the 
responsibility ceases, even according to the 
doctrine of the most rigid theologians, if man is 
either not excited at all, or if he is absolutely inca- 
pable of resistance when violently excited. Can 
it be, that there is any merit in the continence 
of those who are born without the sexual pas- 
sions natural to man? Rush mentions the case 
of a woman, who, though adorned by every 
other moral virtue, could not resist her inclina- 
tion to steal.* I know many similar examples 
among others, of an irresistible inclination to 
kill. Although we reserve to ourselves the right 
to prevent these unhappy beings from injuring 
us, all punishment exercised on them is not less 
unjust than useless : they merit indeed only our 
compassion. I hope some day to render the proof 
of this rare, but sad fact, more familiar to 
judges and physicians. 

(.To be continued Weekly). 


The form of man is allowed by all writers, 
ancient and modern, to stand foremost in the 
ranks of animated nature. Man has it in his 
power to retain his fine symmetry with 
greater ease than any animal, because Omni- 
potence has endowed him with reason ; 
whereas it has only given instinct to those 
below him. Perhaps there is nothing more at- 
tractive in the living beauties of creation than 
the human figure ; standing firmly on the 
right foot, with the right arm elevated above 
the head in a curve to the heavens, and the 
inside of the half-closed hand towards the 
face : whilst the other out-stretched foot 
barely touches the earth with its extremity, 

* Instances of this innate propensity to " steal," in 
Women (who are above want) especially, are numerous 
at the present time. At all our places of fashionable resort 
such as Bazaars, the Pantheon &c. &c, the utmost vigi- 
lance is daily practised, or thefts by well-dressed women 
would be fearful. Any one may satisfy themselves of 
this by inquiry. Well do we remember, years ago, when 
the police courts were daily thronged by people com- 
plaining of these outrages. One lamentable case of a 
young lady, whose parents (highly respectable) lived at 
East Sheen, excited universal attention. The Magistrate 
was "bought off " it is true, and the " young lady" 
thus heavily ransomed, escaped ; but it was a scandal 
that frighted the town for a long period. It is a noto- 
rious fact, that many ladies of high birth possess this 
innate propensity, and practise it daily. Linendrapers, &c, 
(more than one or two in Oxford-street) are told by the 
noble husbands, " not to appear to notice anything that 
is stolen, but to charge it in the bill." The bills are of 
course regularly "paid" by the husbands, and so the 
culprits escape ! — Ed. K. J. 



forming as it were a graceful counterpoise 
below, to the elegant attitude above ; and the 
remaining arm hanging loosely down, and at 
a little distance from the 'perpendicular line 
which is formed by the erect position of the 
body. With such a perfect form, replete 
with reason, health, and vigor, man acts 
strangely to his own disadvantage, whenever 
he allows the foolish fashion of the day to 
injure his symmetry, or permits the gratifica- 
tion of his appetite to interfere with the 
arrangements for the preservation of his 

It is but too true, that the astonishing dis- 
coveries in the mode of preparing his food 
have disposed him to disease in many 
frightful shapes ; whilst the unfitness of his 
attire to the true form of his body has been 
productive of so much mischief to his gene- 
neral symmetry, that there are doubts if he 
would not have been better off had he ad- 
hered to his original haunts, so admirably 
touched upon by Dryden : — 

" When wild in wood the noble savage ran." 

Civilised man has certainly an undoubted 
right to put on clothes of any color, or of 
any size and shape ; but then, the rest of the 
community ought not to be pointed at, nor 
turned into ridicule, if their own notions of 
raiment dissuade them from imitating his 
example. But how little is this liberality 
either practised or understood by man re- 
claimed from the forests ! Some royal spend- 
thrift, supported by the public purse, some 
brainless son of fortune just entered into the 
possession of enormous wealth, sets the 
fashion ; and then all must adopt it, be their 
aversion to it ever so extreme. Fashion may 
be tolerable in some degree when it merely 
trims the purse, but it is utterly intolerable 
when it affects the person. 

He was a cunning and a clever shoemaker, 
who first succeeded in turning old Grand- 
father Squaretoes into ridicule, and in setting 
up young Sharpfoot as a pattern for universal 
imitation. What must have been poor old 
Dame Nature's surprise and vexation, when 
she saw and felt the abominable change? 
The toes have their duty to perform, when 
the frame of man is either placed erect, or 
put in motion : shoes at best are a vast in- 
cumbrance to them ; but when it happens 
that shoes are what is called a bad fit, then 
all goes wrong indeed, and corns and blisters 
soon oblige the wearer of them to wend his 
way — 

" With faltering step and slow." 

When I see a man thus hobbling on, I con- 
demn both his fortitude and folly : his forti- 
tude, in undergoing a pedal martyrdom with- 
out necessity; and his folly, in wearing, for 
fashion's sake, a pair of shoes so ill adapted to 
his feet in size and shape. Corns are the un- 

doubted offspring of tight shoes ; and tight 
shoes the proper punishers of human vanity. 
If the rules of society require that I should 
imprison my toes, it does not follow that I 
should voluntarily force them on to the 
treadmill. The foot of man does not end in 
a point; its termination is nearly circular. 
Hence, it is plain and obvious that a pointed 
shoe will have the effect of forcing the toes 
into so small a space that one will lie over 
the other for want of room. By having always 
worn shoes suited to the form of my foot, I 
have now at sixty-two the full use of my 
toes ; and this is invaluable to me in ascend- 
ing trees. 

There is something very forbidding to my 
eye, in a foot with a pointed shoe on ; I 
always fancy that I can see there, comfort, 
and ease, and symmetry, all sacrificed at the 
tinsel shrine of fashion. Never be it for- 
gotten, that tight shoes and tight garters 
are very successful agents in producing cold 
feet ; and that cold feet are no friends to a 
warm heart. The foot of man is formed in 
Nature's finest mould : custom causes us to 
conceal it, and necessity to defend it from 
the asperities of the flinty path; but we 
never can improve its original shape, or add 
any thing to its natural means, in the per- 
formance of its important task. 

It were well if our bodily miseries com- 
menced and ended in our shoes ; but there is 
something fearfully wrong in our wearing 
apparel, at the other end of our body, betwixt 
the head and shoulders. 

What in the name of hemp and bleaching 
has a cravat to do with the throat of man, 
except at Newgate ? The throat is the great 
thoroughfare or highway for the departure 
and return of the blood from the heart to the 
head, and back again ; and we all know that 
pressure on the vessels which contain this 
precious fluid, maybe attended with distress- 
ing, and even fatal consequences ; so that, 
when a man falls down in a fit, the first 
attempt at relief on the part of the bystanders 
is to untie his cravat. Indeed, the wind- 
pipe, the veins, and the arteries located in 
the neck, may be considered as life's body- 
guards, which will not allow themselves to 
be too severely pressed upon with impunity. 

When we consider how very near these 
main channels of life are to the surface of the 
throat, we wonder at the temerity of the 
man who first introduced the use of cravats 
as a protection against the weather, or as an 
ornament to the parts. When he was about 
this roguish business, why did he stop short 
at the neck ? He might just as well have 
offered clothing to the nose and cheeks. If 
these last-mentioned parts of our mortal 
frame can safely accommodate themselves to 
the blasts of winter, or the summers sun, 
surely the throat might be allowed to try its 

fortune in the external air, especially when 
we see this important privilege conceded to 
females in every rank of life, and of the most 
delicate constitutions. 

If any part of the human body be allowed 
to be uncovered in these days of observation 
and improvement, certainly the throat of man 
has the best claim to exemption from the 
punishment which it undergoes at present. 

However, we are not quite so outrageous 
now-a-days, in some things, as we were when 
I was a lad. I remember well the time when 
cravats of enormous height and thickness 
were all the go. 'Twas said that these 
jugular bolsters came into fashion, on ac- 
count of some unsightly rosebuds having 
made their appearance a little beloAv the ears 
of a royal dandy. This may have been 
scandal for aught I know to the contrary ; 
but certain it is, that the new invention 
spread like wildfire, and warmed the throats 
of all in high life. A connexion of ours 
placed so much stress upon the necessity of 
it, that he never considered himself suffi- 
ciently well dressed until he had circum- 
vented his t neck with seven cravats, — only 
two less in number than the aqueous folds 
which surrounded the body of Eurydice, 
when she was in the realms below, where 

" Novies Styx interfma coercet : 

" Fate had fast bound her 
With Styx nine times round her." 

My own cravat, although it had nothing 
extraordinary either in size or shape, had 
once very nearly been the death of me. One 
night, in going my rounds alone in an adja- 
cent wood, I came up with two poachers : 
fortunately one of them fled, and I saw no 
more of him. I engaged the other ; wrenched 
the knife out of his hand, after I had parried 
his blow, and then closed with him. We 
soon came to the ground together, he upper- 
most. In the struggle, he contrived to get 
his hand into my cravat, and twisted it till I 
was within an ace of being strangled. Just as 
all was apparently over with me, I made one 
last convulsive effort, and I sent my knees, 
as he lay upon me, full against his stomach, 
and threw him off. Away he went, carrying 
with him my hat, and leaving me his own, 
together with his knife and twenty wire 

I cannot possibly understand why we 
strong and healthy men should be doomed by 
fashion to bind up our necks like sheaves of 
corn, and thus keep our jugular veins in ever- 
lasting jeopardy. I know one philosopher in 
Sheffield who sets this execrable fashion 
nobly at defiance, and always appears with- 
out a cravat. How 1 revere him for this ; 
and how I condemn myself for not having 
sufficient fortitude to follow his example ! 
The armadillo and land tortoise of Guiana, 
although encased in a nearly impenetrable 

armour, have their necks free. Indeed, man 
alone is the only being to be found in the 
whole range of animated nature who goes 
with a ligature on the throat. 

Thus it would appear that fashion brings 
torment to our toes, and peril to our throats. 
But what a still more unfavorable opinion 
must we entertain of this inexorable goddess 
when we reflect that, by her invention of 
tight stays, she dooms thousands of young 
females to lose their health and symmetry, 
and to sink at last into the cold and dreary 
grave long before their time ! 

The crocodile, although sheathed in ada- 
mant both above and below, has his sides 
free for the expansion of his body ; and this 
most necessary provision has been kindly 
given to him by old Dame Nature, for the 
well working of his iron frame. Shall, then, 
our own thoughtless dames of fashion, with 
this example before their eyes, allow their 
still more thoughtless daughters to counteract 
the plan of Nature by putting those parts 
into prison, which, as they value their health, 
ought always to remain free ? 

No sooner are the external parts sent in 
by the ligature of stays, than the internal 
parts begin to suffer from the unnatural pres- 
sure ; and then the heart, and lungs, and ad- 
jacent vitals, robbed of their means of full 
expansion by this ugly, bad, and cruel pro- 
cess, no longer can perform their duty as they 
once were wont to do. In the meantime, 
health sees closing in upon her a train of dis- 
eases, wan, and hideous, and terrible to think 
of. Irregular beatings of the heart, loss of 
appetite, loss of health, and loss of sleep, are 
the certain consequences, in a greater or less 
degree, of circumventing the body with a 
pair of tight stays. 

Nature must and will be free. If you press 
her on one part, she will protrude at ano- 
ther ; and there she will cause a permanent 
deformity, if you continue to torment her. 

In Prussia and in Italy, nothing can exceed 
the horrible distortions brought upon the 
human frame by the use of swaddling clothes. 
In these countries may be seen the spine in 
every stage of deformity that the most vivid 
imagination can conceive, with a misshapen 
breast as a counterpart to it. When the mo- 
ralist shall have made his tour through these 
regions, where a most lamentable deficiency 
of common sense in the proper application 
of wearing apparel has exposed the frame of 
civilised man to all the horrors of spinal 
curvature and decrepitude, let him repair to 
the forests of Guiana, in which Nature has 
had her own way in training the human 
frame. During the whole of the time I 
spent in those interminable wilds, I never 
observed a female, either young or old, who 
was laboring under a complaint of the 
spine. These obedient children of good 



Dame Nature have never had their better 
judgment warped by the sophistry of the ad- 
vocates of fashion, nor their vanity punished 
by deformity. Not a single pair of stays, 
nor any thing resembling them, did I see 
during my wanderings in that uncivilised 
part of the globe. 

Oh, it makes an honest man's heart ache 
to see his fellow-creatures cheated out of 
their birthright by the intrigues of fashion. 
Can there be a sight in all nature more sad 
and melancholy, than to behold the beau- 
teous female form sinking gradually into the 
tomb, through the indiscreet application of 
ligature to those parts which Providence had 
formed so true in their proportions, and of 
such charming symmetry ? That fine black 
eye, expressive of a noble soul within, has 
lost its wonted brightness ; those feet no 
longer move with firmness; the frame can 
barely keep from drooping. In a few weeks 
more, a close confinement to the bedroom 
will shut out the last sweet carol of the 
nightingale and lark. 

" That face, alas! no more is fair; 
Those lips have lost their red ; 
Those cheeks no longer roses bear, 
And every charm is fled." 

Charles Waterton. 

[There is more sound sense, freely and 
honestly expressed, in this short Paper, 
than is usually found in a dozen octavo 
volumes. When toill men and women begin 
to try to learn to be wise ?] 



Sweet the repose of him whose breast 
Is by no cank'ring grief oppress'd, 

Or guilty dread ; 
Who can, while sleep the eyelid closes, 
Sweetly press his bed of roses, 

By fancy fed! 

Who dreams of happy years to come, 
Reckless of untimely tomb, 

Or woe-fraught hours ; 
Who sees gay Summer's laughing ray 
Usher in the perfumed day, 

And cull its flowers ! 

Of him, alas ! how sad the sleep, 
Who's made the hapless orphan weep, 

Or widow sigh ; 
When Conscience bids before him stand, 
Attended by a demon band, 

Eternity ! 

To whose sad agonising fears, 
Outraged Justice then appears, 

With iron rod ; 
Before whose terror-frenzied eye 
Upstands, in dreadful Majesty, 

Offended God ! L. L. L. 

J. T. W.— It is a Hen bird. Let it fly early in May. It 
will very soon find a mate, if taken a few miles from 

S. Cookson. — Send your address. 

J. H. Your note has been forwarded to " W. J. L.," as 

F. C. Thanks ; the information about the injured 
Robin will be useful on a future occasion. 

A. H. — Our space is so circumscribed, that "Fugitive 
Poetry " can only be admissible under very peculiar 
circumstances. We are already overwhelmed with 
similar "kind offerings." This "reply" will suffice 
for all the writers. Their favors have merit, and 
would be readily available in a Monthly Magazine. 

New Subscribers, and Casual Readers, are referred to 
the Leading Article in our First Number for the 
detailed objects of the London Journal : to these 
we shall rigidly adhere. 

Private Letters. — Of these we daily receive such 
immense quantities, that we must really beg the 
writers to excuse our not replying to them. Our time 
is more profitably occupied. All vacancies, as they are 
called, are filled up. Let this general answer suffice. 

Correspondents sending in any " facts " connected with 
Science or Natural History, are requested in every 
case to append their names and places of abode. In no 
instance, however, will their names be published with- 
out their express sanction. 

Notice to Subscribers and Others. — It having been 
deemed expedient, to meet the views of the Trade, that 
this Journal should always be published by anticipa- 
tion, Contributors and others will be so kind as to 
bear in mind that they must give us an extra " week's 
grace," and wait patiently till their favors appear. 

All persons who may send in MSS., but which may no^ 
be " accepted," are requested to preserve copies of 
them, as tbe Editor cannot hold himself responsible 
for their return. 

To obtain this Paper without any difficulty, our readers 
need only order it to be sent to them by any of their 
local Booksellers or Newsvendors. It is published 
simultaneously with all the other weekly periodicals. 

Saturday, March 13, 1852. 

Our Journal is now forcing itself into 
notoriety, in spite of the apathy and opposi- 
tion of those worthy gentlemen booksellers 
who ought to have been first and foremost 
in assisting it from its birth. They viewed 
it at the onset, with suspicion ; next with 
contempt ; then with doubt ; anon with sur- 
prise, — now with admiration ! At last, they 
confess it is "a meritorious Paper." Clear- 
sighted are they all, — very ! 

Let us now address one or two ob- 
servations to our good friends, the pub- 
lic. The subjects we have recently in- 
troduced in our Journal are, it is 
acknowledged, of universal interest. In- 
stead then of our Paper being lent for 
perusal from one family to another, let each 
well-wisher purchase a copy for himself. The 
cost is trifling to an individual, but the 
result to us will be grand. Thus sup- 
ported, our Journal will flourish and our 
anxiety for its success will cease. 

Hitherto it has been kept up by a heavy 
outlay of money, and unceasing activity, — 
for, as we said weeks ago, we must either 
"conquer or die." It has been a severe 



battle, we grant; but our ammunition has 
held out, and victory, we would fain hope, 
is not very far distant. 

Still, we say to our good friends, — " Con- 
tinue the helping hand, and the day is 
our own. 1 ' 


Pigeons of different Kinds bred in a Boom. — 
I am an amateur poultry- fancier on a small 
scale, and residing in a densely populous neigh- 
borhood, am obliged to confine the valuable 
part of my pigeons (one pair of Croppers, one 
pair of Jacobins, and one pair of Almond Tum- 
blers), to a lofty room, with two windows. They 
have for some time manifested a strong desire to 
increase their numbers ; but I find, after their eggs 
have been laid a day or two, in nests prepared for 
their reception (partly by themselves), that the 
eggs are uniformly thrown out, broken, and for- 
saken. The pigeons are never disturbed except 
when I feed them myself, which I do with barley 
and hemp seed; and I am careful never to med- 
dle with them. No vermin have ever been seen, 
or can approach them. I suspect they are in the 
habit of quarrelling, and that their eggs are 
thrown out by an invasion on each other's nests. 
Should I have a better chance by removing one 
pair? Others succeed, I believe, in rearing 
hrst-rate birds in this way, and I can't conceive 
any other cause for my failure. Any suggestion 
you or your correspondents can make, through 
your valuable periodical, 'I doubt not will be 
useful to many others who, like myself, have 
similar tastes, and yet are compelled to live in 
towns. — G. P. 

[It is bad management to have these various 
breeds associated. Pigeons are very jealous birds, 
and not altogether so moral as they ought to 
be in their habits. They have drunk deep of 
the vicious principles inculcated by that wan- 
dering star, Prof. Owen. Separate therefore 
the different families; thon will your eggs be 
fruitful, and your increase constant. Pigeons, 
like ourselves, prsfer to bo quiet and domestic. 
No doubt our correspondent is aware that 
jealousy is not exclusively confined to pigeons, 
when the sexes are commingled and cannot 

™ Cochin China Fowl. — A most remarkable Case 
of Cure under adverse Circumstances.'— Many 
thanks for your kind advice, so freely given me 
in a former Journal, as to how I ought to treat 
one of my fowls. — a Cochin China cock. You 
recommended, among other things, change of 
air, diet, and exercise. Well, what with your 
advice, my skill, or luck, — which you will, I 
have succeeded in restoring the poor bird to 
perfect health; and for the benefit of that por- 
tion of your readers who keep valuable poultry, 
and may perhaps some time or other be in a 
similar "fix," I send you my mode of operations. 
Let me first state the symptoms of illness the 
bird exhibited. These were, — loss of appetite, 
dung of a dark-green color, ruffled feathers, 
comb and wattles on the edges turning blue, for- 

saking the company of the hens. These being 
the symptoms, I consulted thereon with my 
neighbors who keep poultry. Some said the 
invalid had got the pip; others that he had swal- 
lowed poison ; and several of the " oldest inhabit- 
ants" by way of consolation, told me the bird 
was sure to die in a day or two. It is said 
that " in a multitude of counsellors there is wis- 
dom." Not so, however, in this case ; for all the 
advice I obtained only puzzled, confused, and 
made matters worse; until the thought struck me 
that the bird might have swallowed something 
indigestible. But how to arrive at the solution 
of the mystery ? After a few words with myself 
(and when a man talks to himself it is gene- 
rally to the point), I made up my mind to im- 
prison, and keep the bird without food for 
twenty-four hours. I then visited him, and felt 
the crop of the now hungry bird. Guess my 
surprise to find, that the crop was as much dis- 
tended as it was twenty-four hours before! "A 
desperate disease requires a desperate remedy." 
I therefore at once plucked the feathers off the 
inflamed crop, and carefully cut the same open 
with a pair of sharp-pointed scissors. The cause 
for the illness of the bird now became apparent ; 
the half-putrid corn, &c, quickly protruded 
through the orifice ; then, with the handle of a 
teaspoon, I brought forth two large pieces of 
bone, which the poor bird must have swallowed 
but could not digest. After washing out the 
crop, the lips of the wound were sewed together 
with silk: so that, instead of dying, Chanticleer 
yet lives to ' crow the tale ' — I hope for the future 
benefit of others of his tribe. — W. L. J. 

The Squirrel. — Your account of the squirrel is 
truly interesting, and as I have one in a cage 
who is nearly as tame as the one you speak of, I 
feel unusually interested in the discussion of his 
amiabilities. I feed mine on bread and milk 
and nuts; acorns he does not seem to like. 
Are fir cones good for him? — P. 

[French roll, moistened with new milk, fresh 
twice daily, is the best general food. A Spanish 
nut or two, occasionally, will be an extra treat ; 
but these should be sparingly given. Your cage 
should be a rotary cage. These little fellows 
delight in flying about like lightning, and al- 
ways mope if not so indulged. We shall have lots 
more to say about the squirrel, as opportunity 
offers. We should advise that neither fir cones 
nor acorns be administered. In confinement, 
squirrels prefer that which when at liberty they 

The Nuthatch. — Are you aware of the tameness 
of the nuthatch, or lesser wood-pecker? I have 
had a pair in my grounds all through the winter; 
and they are amongst the tamest of my " wild " 
birds. They come daily to my window to be fed, 
and exhibit no signs of fear whatever. Both in 
Summer and Winter, they are my most constant, 
most welcome guests. Perhaps you will say a 
word or two about these amiable denizens of our 
woods, forests, and gardens, in your Journal. 
It cannot fail to interest many of your readers. 
The more extensively the habits of these pretty 
and interesting creatures become known, the 
more they must ever be admired. — P., Hants. 

[The Nuthatch is a merry little fellow truly, 



and we are not surprised at our Correspondent 
courting the company of himself and mate. 
(These birds by the way, do not, like most other 
birds, dissolve the marriage union every year). 
In size they resemble the sparrow, and are about 
six inches long. In some of our counties it re- 
mains all the year; it seldom however visits 
Cornwall, nor does it go far north. It creeps up 
the trunks of trees, and builds in their hollows. 
Its whereabouts may be known by a smart rap, 
rap, rap, enunciated by its bill coming in contact 
with a tree. If you then look carefully upwards, 
you will see a small, grey, blue-backed bird, 
busily occupied in knocking away with the full 
force of its head against the trunk, — its beak and 
body, as if the whole were one solid mass, moving 
on the hinges of its thigh-bones. After a while, 
the bird will be seen to glide, rather than climb, 
up or round the stem, and disappear, till it is 
again detected by a repetition of the rap-rap- 
rap. It is curious to watch how artistically it 
hammers a nut to pieces, first fixing it in a crevice 
of the bark. The shell broken, it eats the kernel 
at its leisure. In secluded grounds, these birds 
are easily tamed; and when undisturbed, will 
live and die on the same spot. We have heard 
that in America they are far tamer than they are 
here, — approaching the person, and exchanging 
all sorts of familiarities with their owners. As 
we have said repeatedly, kindness will do any- 
thing. The Nuthatch lays six, sometimes seven 
eggs, about the size of those of the Parus major, 
or larger titmouse. The nest, which has a very 
small entrance, is used in winter for a storehouse; 
also for abed.] 

On the Artificial Incubation of Eggs. — I sent 
you a communication on this subject some time 
since (see p. 90), and am anxious to know what 
you think about my new incubator. Its cheap- 
ness is surely as great a recommendation as its 
unfailing usefulness. — W. L. J. 

[We have no doubt of the success of this ap- 
paratus, so far as the successful hatching at a 
cheap rate extends. But we advise you and all 
others using it, to sell all the poultry so reared 
for the table. Fowls thus bred, will never be 
fit for breeding from. Nature shakes her head 
at this artificial means of producing chickens 
from eggs.] 

Another Ailing Bullfinch. — I have a pet bull- 
finch which sings sweetly. May I give it a bath 
now and then ? [Certainly not at this season, — 
wait until May. He will then enjoy a bath, and 
may have one daily.] What is the proper food 
for these birds? [Canary and flax only. Six 
bempseeds a- week; one daily, as a treat, may 
alone be allowed. Then will the plumage be 
always bright, and the bird well.] Is the bull- 
finch a seed bird? [Yes.] May I give him sugar, 
rice, biscuit, and cake occasionally? [You had 
far better not.] Can I ever teach him to " pipe?" 
[No ; in Germany alone can the airs you wish to 
hear warbled over, be taught. It is an " art " 
we English do not possess.] — Rosa. 

The Anatomy and Mechanism of Birds. — An 
Article or two on this subject in your Journal 

would be most acceptable to your readers, and 
not only amusing, but highly instructive. — C P. 
[We quite agree with you, and shall furnish 
what you require at an early day. It is pleasing 
to observe what curiosity our Journal is exciting 
everywhere. Knowledge is never stationary.] 

Food for Blackbirds. — I have a blackbird in a 
cage ; but he pines sadly and looks unhappy. I 
feed him on bread and hempseed, and now and 
then I give him a few worms. These, however, 
bring on a looseness which causes him to be 
very weak. — J. B., Tottenham. 

[Give him some " Clifford's German Paste," 
and some stale sweet-bun rubbed with it, as his 
common food. Also, a snail or two, in lieu of 
worms ; and a little piece of Cheshire cheese now 
and then. When at breakfast, hand him a por- 
tion of your bread and butter. He will then 
amply repay you by an early and sweet song.] 

A Squirrel's Cage. — Ought a squirrel to have 
a stationary or a rotary cage ? Some say the 
latter drives a squirrel mad, as he flies round so 
rapidly when it is in motion. As you are Avell ac- 
quainted with all that relates to animals, I shall 
be most thankful for any information you can 
give me. My squirrel is very tame, and runs 
between my parlor and shrubbery daily, coming 
in just as, and just when he pleases. — A Con- 
stant Reader. 

[That squirrels go mad from frolicking in 
rotary cages, is an old wife's fable. Open the 
cage door, and see the performer take to the 
wheel! Why his little heart would burst if he 
found he could not turn a wheel of this sort. 
Buy a rotary cage immediately.] 


Succulent Plants. — No. II. 

In these days, when taste is becoming 
every clay more refined, and the elementary 
principles thereof better understood, it has 
followed, as a matter of course, that plants 
can be rendered useful as an ornamental 
appendage to the windows of our dwelling- 
houses. We now find them assigned a place 
in the first drawing-rooms of our aristocracy, 
and cultivated by every grade of society, 
down to the very humblest cottager. Indeed, 
it has become almost a rare sight to visit a 
house without beholding a plant of some kind 
or other in a prominent position. The window, 
however, is, at best, but a bad place for all 
plants ; to some more especially ; and were 
they to remain for any length of time in 
such a situation, it would test the skill and in- 
genuity of many good cultivators to keep them 
in perfect trim. Yet their experience would 
make them adopt (under the circumstances) 
those things most suitable; and so their 
knowledge would secure to them the best 
practical result. The case, however, is very 
different with the many. Some, from an 
innate love of flowers, always keep their 

windows gay with a variety of Flora's 
favorite specimens, purchased from the 
nursery at no small cost (when all things are 
taken into account) ; from their altered cir- 
cumstances, these soon become shabby in 
appearance, and are again replaced with 
fresh ones. It is not a matter for wonder 
that it should be so, when their habits are 
not understood, and the treatment they have 
received, and should receive, is not known. 
This, however pleasing (and it is not money 
mis-spent), is yet, nevertheless, rather ex- 
pensive, and as often vexatious — many prid- 
ing themselves upon rearing and preserving 
their " own plants," at least for a time, more 
than if they occupied the place of expended 
£ s. d. The cost I have instanced is a great 
drawback to many. 

Again, another class, over careful, do more 
harm than many who actually neglect their 
plants. For instance, a plant is becoming un- 
healthy from defective drainage; water stag- 
nates at the root. Instead of withholding 
water until this was in some measure given 
off in vapor (of course, repotting would be 
far better, if properly done), water is more 
abundantly applied than before. The plant 
now becomes worse and worse, and ultimately 
dies ; and then you hear it said, " I cannot 
think what ailed that plant of mine ! I am 
sure I was very careful in watering it, and 
yet it drooped and then died." I may add, 
that every cause but the right one is as- 
signed for its untimely end. Thus much for 
our ordinary window gardeners. 

Succulent plants derive their name from 
their peculiar physiological formation. Most 
plants are furnished with pores, by which 
they give off in vaporall superfluous moisture, 
called evaporation. Now these are furnished 
with very few of these evaporating pores : 
and thus this process goes on very slowly 
indeed ; so that what ft they receive by their 
roots is, as it were, stored up for their use 
against a time of need. Hence, these plants 
can endure drought for a longer period than 
any others with which I am acquainted. 
Thus far for their name. 

I now come to the first part of my subject, 
viz : — Their suitability for window decora- 

The first I shall begin with is the Cactus. 
This I propose to separate into several 
general divisions, called sections. 

Epiphyllum is the first that comes under 
our notice. This division, or section, con- 
sists of thick, fleshy-stemmed plants ; the 
stems, or leaves, growing from nine inches 
in height to two feet and upwards. Some 
are angular shaped, some flat, some are both 
angular and flat on the same stem ; while on 
the edges or angles at regular and irregular dis- 
tances, small tufts of spines are developed, 
and from these points the future flower in- 

variably proceeds. This division is again 
subdivided into many varieties ; a few of the 
principal I shall here notice. Those most 
suited to our present purpose are: — 1, 
Epiphyllum AcTcermanii, major. 2, E. Aclcer- 
manii, minor. 3, E. Jenkensonii. 4, E. 
Speciosa. The first is a very beautiful plant 
indeed when seen in flower ; and those who 
have taken any trouble with it, and have 
been rewarded with a profusion of bloom 
in return, must confess it stands unrivalled 
as to splendor among this section. Glowing 
scarlet stars, appearing as though they were 
stuck upon the green wax-like leaves, 
form a very beautiful contrast as to color ; 
although the leaves are almost obscured 
while the plant is in bloom. The flowers of 
this variety are very large, andare, in them- 
selves, perfect gems, the interior being ex- 
quisitely arranged. We observe an unusual 
quantity of stamens (male organs) laid side 
by side in a most beautiful manner, the tops 
bearing small tufts (anthers) loaded with white 
dust (pollen), which give the flowers an 
unusual appearance as to symmetry of form. 
In the centre of these stands the pistil (the 
female organ), a larger organ than any of 
the stamens ; at the top of which, in the 
shape of a star, stands what is called the 
stigma (by botanists), which completes the 
description of the flower. 

I cannot help here noticing the beautiful 
arrangement of nature to secure the fertility 
of the seeds. After the flowers have been 
open from three to six days, there is from 
the interior of the flower an exudation of an 
oily substance, as sweet as the sweetest 
honey. This takes place, I think, from the 
pistil, and dropping on the leaves of the 
flowers (petals), just about the anthers, causes 
the pollen to adhere closely to these parts. 
The flower then begins to close, and brings 
them close around the stigma, thus securing 
fertility. These are indeed wonderful con- 
trivances of Nature, to accomplish her own 
purposes. I refer this very interesting sub- 
ject to the study of all, as being not only 
entertaining but instructive withal. 

I would here remark, that in the Great 
Exhibition almost every known flower was 
to be seen modelled in wax " to the life," 
rendering it in some cases difficult to dis- 
tinguish, at a distance, whether real or 
artificial. My plants, however, claimed 
an honorable exception. In no one instance 
was a flower of this kind to be seen without 
the counterfeit being stamped on its very 
face, — very much to my satisfaction, you 
may suppose. The flowers of this variety 
are larger than any others of their class. I 
had a plant, which, through some neglect on 
my part, just as the buds were setting, re- 
ceived a check : this caused all but one to 
prove abortive ; however, under very simple 



treatment, it grew to the size of 5g inches 
in diameter (this is the actual measure), and 
perhaps might, with stimulating circum- 
stances, have been considerably larger. The 
petals are scarlet, edged with crimson inside, 
and expand very t wide, almost as flat as a 
saucer.— N. B. 


"What disease hast thou ? 
A cold, Sir ; a cough. 

Shakspeare, Henry IV, 

In itself, a cold is one of the most uncon- 
genial titillating plagues to which mortal 
creatures are subjected, during their earthly 
pilgrimage. A decline saps one down to 
the grave in a delicate, gentlemanly sort of 
manner. A tooth-ache, or an ear-ache, is 
outrageously painful ; but then they are 
downright John Bull sort of attacks ; now a 
cold is a cowardly, indescribable complaint. 
It intrudes at all seasons and in all places. 
It may be caught in the hot blush of sum- 
mer, as well as in the surly breeze of winter; 
and as for places, — into what can it not 
enter ? Sometimes it whistles itself through 
a creek in the window, or whines through a 
half-opened parlor-door, or comes blundering 
down the chimney, or rolls itself in many a 
whistled mutter along the hall ; it is a wiz- 
ard malady. 

The most popular way of catching a cold, 
is by "getting wet through" — to use a com- 
mon, but expressive idiom. This "getting 
wet through " frequently ends in something 
more serious than a cold ; — many a sweet 
creature is placed under the turf by it. As 
an introduction to a mere cold, it is truly 
miserable and comfortless. You have been 
out, for instance, to have a little cheerful 
chat with a friend, and at the respectable 
hour of ten, encased in a heavy benjamin, 
return to your lodging. By-and-by the skies 
deepen into a gloomy swell of clouds, and 
then discharge themselves in a most tremen- 
dous shower. You may button your coat 
tighter, shiver and shake, and look as black 
as the heavens — and yet, if you have no um- 
brella, and no close coat, to shelter yourself 
in — you'll " get wet through." The unruly 
rain-drops will drip from the rim of your 
hat, as from the tiles of a house, and thence 
creep down your back in many a chilling 
trickle. This invariably makes one fret and 
fume. The coat begins to cling like a wet 
blanket; and lastly, every step you take 
generally introduces your soaked shoe or 
boot into a puddle, at which you involun- 
tarily start with a " drat it ! " — and then 
step into another, which seldom fails to 
spatter your dress with mud. Should you 
happen to be on the outside of an omnibus in 
rainy weather, Heaven defend you from one 

of those stoical, stone-hearted, big-faced fel- 
lows, who will let the pinions of his umbrella 
drop buckets full of rain into your poll, with 
the utmost sang-froid; and when you at- 
tempt to resent his cruelty, replies — " Can't 
help it, Sir ; what can't be cured must be 
endured !" 

Never is the street door of our dwelling 
so charming an object, as when we reach it 
half coddled by the incessant patter of the 
rain. What a peal we play on the door, 
sending the stormy music of its knocker 
through the chambers like cannon echoes ! 
'Tis bustle all ! Your wife has been fretting 
about you for the last hour, and now she is at 
the door before any of the domestics. Your 
Louisa (an only daughter) is by her side, 
and between both you are tenderly hauled 
into the parlor, there to undergo a complete 
revolution of the " outward man." And how 
delightful are the little attentions of affec- 
tion and love on these occasions ! It is at 
all times pleasurable to have a woman flut- 
tering about one, with her looks of love, and 
her delicate hands ready to assist you ; but 
especially on these uncomfortable occa- 

The author knows too little of the Escula- 
pian art, to describe scientifically the ap- 
pearance of a person who is under the en- 
durance of a cold ; yet he may be able, 
perhaps, to give a representation of its effects. 
A polite cold approaches one with maiden- 
like modesty. — First, a feverish ardor suf- 
fuses itself over the whole person; and while 
this is the case, the very atmosphere appears 
burdensome : we would fain disengage our- 
selves from it, and mount upwards into 
purer and more refreshing air. Next, the 
nostrils are tinted with a blush which, un- 
fortunately, attends too many who have no 
cold to account for it. It must not be for- 
gotten, that the frequent communication 
which takes place between the nose and 
pocket-handkerchief occasions a disagreeable 
feeling in the former. 

The effect of a cold on the sight is, per- 
haps, the most uncongenial of all its influ- 
ences. It reddens the corners of the eye, 
fills it with heat, and makes the eye-ball 
throb with feverish excitement. Next comes 
the sneezing; and he who says that sneez- 
ing is unpleasant, never sneezed legitimately, 
he may be assured. Certainly it compels 
the breast to swell and heave, gives the 
whole body an abrupt jerk; but neverthe- 
less, sneezing is agreeable, and when it is 
over, the sensation that remains is similar 
to that which arises from resting the legs 
after they have been excercised greatly, 
during the day : in short, sneezing must be 
ranked among the minor pleasures attending 
a cold. The result of all these symptoms is 
a nervous and languid aspect ; and having 

!Trrr- :■*.'_'-._".. 



arrived at this, let us inquire what social 
charms attend the victim of a cold. 

The first pleasure is that of being an in- 
valid, and therefore exacting a family sym- 
pathy throughout the whole domestic circle. 
For who, with a heart of human mould, 
would not assume a complacent aspect to- 
wards a man with cracked lips, and over- 
shaded countenance ? If he be surrounded, 
therefore, with amiable relatives while en- 
during a cold, he will experience a thousand 
tender attentions which would be omitted, 
where he cold-less. His wife, for instance, 
will be buzzing about him with smiles of 
unaffected kindness on her connubial cheek, 
and looking, and spying, and handing, and 
taking, and asking, and laying down numer- 
ous solicitous regulations respecting his 
comfort. The doors must not be left open 
— indeed they must not ; and that hawk- 
eyed, giggling little fellow there will be 
smartly lectured for not shutting the street- 
door behind him when he knows papa has 
such a cold ! And then the arm-chair! — oh, 
the arm-chair ! — What hours are they, passed 
in an old-fashioned roomy arm-chair, by the 
side of a broad-faced, coal-cracking fire ! A 
cold is almost worth catching, for the sake 
of having an excuse for dosing in the em- 
brace of an arm-chair by the fire-side. It is 
in an arm-chair, while lolling supine, that 
home and its comforts are prized : let it be 
a wet evening, (which is mostly the case on 
these occasions,) and how many a comfort- 
able shrug the invalid will give himself when 
reflecting on the peace and home-bred joys 
around him ! The stir of wheels, hoofs, and 
voices in the street, the arrowy rain-showers 
drifted across the window-panes, and now 
and then pattering down the chimney, and 
spitting like a roast apple on the glow- 
ing coals, — the voices of friends around him, 
or the prattle of his children who are playing 
bopeep behind the curtains, or visioning, 
with their fingers, rabbits' and pigs' heads 
on the lighted walls of the room, — all these, 
together with that undeiinable sensation of 
gratitude to Heaven for the blessing of a 
home, entice into the heart its most plea- 
surable feelings. 

And who is that sitting by him, with 
needle-work in her fair hands, and now and 
then looking volumes of love and sweetness 
at him? — Why, who else can it be, but his 
wife? Yes, now is the hour for woman to 
bring her enchantment into action, when 
the langor of a cold has left the heart at full 
liberty to recognise her attentions and fond- 
nesses. All the doctors in the universe — 
all who have ever existed, from Dr. Hippo- 
crates to Dr. Abernethy — can never afford 
such ease to a patient, as one single darling 
woman. And to the honor of her sex be it 
spoken, that female tenderness is always 

prompt to exert itself when the illness of a 
loved-one requires it : her very words, on 
these occasions, are accents of mercy and sym- 
pathy. A wife at this season is perhaps 
beyond a mother. No man likes to give an 
aged parent the trouble of waiting on him. 
A box of lozenges, and some primitive 
maxims respecting damp shoes and the ne- 
cessity of "taking care of the health," &c. 
are quite sufficient from a grey-headed 
mother. But a young wife — let her bestir 
herself as much as she please. For, when 
do her eyes beam so eloquently beautiful as 
when they are darting sympathy into those 
of her husband? When does her voice 
sound so sweetly as when it is exercised in 
tones of consolation, of affectionate counsel ? 
And when do her soft hands seem so deli- 
cately made, as when they are employed in 
handing some allaying beverage of refresh- 
ing fruit to a husban